


Kinktober 2020

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Just the Smut Please [17]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Prep school, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, As in canon schmanon, Asphyxiation, Blood Drinking, Blowjobs, Caning, Catboys, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, First Foray into the Fandom, First Time, Flogging, Fuck Or Die, Horrible boss, Humiliation, I’m not joking about the shameless smut tag, Kidnapped Bridegroom, Kidnapping, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Injuries, More tags to be added, Non-Consensual Spanking, OOC, Paddling, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secretary Cloud, Sex Slave, Shameless Smut, Sirens, Vampires, monster sex?, probably not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: I thought I’d do something a little out of the box this year for Kinktober. So please be gentle.So. That being said, this *is* my first work at all in this fandom and I’m not overly familiar with it. If you read for canon, you probably aren’t going to like my style.So far:1 - Index/Table of Contents2 - Catboys (mating cycles, cat ears and tails, mostly con)3 - Prep school (non-con discipline and spanking, humiliation...)4 - Vampires (dub-con, fuck or die, blood drinking)5 - Horrible Boss (consensual non-consent [please read the chapter note for clarification], spanking, discipline, voyeurism, blowjob)6 - Kidnapped Bridegroom (non-consensual sex, kidnapping, bondage, except that Sephiroth is actually fulfilling Cloud’s plea for help)7 - Sex Slave - non-con bondage, unsafe BDSM, mild pet play, asphyxiation, misuse of materia, object insertion, spanking, flogging, etc.8 - Merman/Siren - medical injury, first time, frottage, consensual, weird fish sex.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Series: Just the Smut Please [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149473
Comments: 66
Kudos: 147





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

  * For [virtuous_contract](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuous_contract/gifts).



> Also, will someone PLEASE explain to me why there is a such a shortage of impact play/spanking in this fandom?? I mean, it may not be your kink. But it IS mine, as you should see in Day 2. (Links to your favorites appreciated! Leave them in the comments!)
> 
> I should probably qualify any writing (and scare off any timid readers) by letting you know my usual fandom is a Nitro+Chiral fandom, which is pretty much straight BL. I try not to be offensive, but my writing style ends up pretty blunt and often non-con. I also write for therapeutic reasons. I find that putting my own horrible experiences in words (not by the actions of the characters as much as the it is their feelings) is a cathartic experience.
> 
> It can be unpleasant for sensitive readers or people who believe that fictional characters have rights. So. When you read these, please keep in mind that there is a FIRM boundary between fiction and real life. (I’m old, so I have earned the right to write what I want. ;) Get off my lawn, so the saying goes.)
> 
> But I do hope you enjoy my style and my writing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A list of chapter titles and warnings. Any of the chapters can be read as stand-alone one-shots (or that’s the plan anyway), so you if see a warning and it scares/disgusts you, skip that chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write for a VERY small fandom that has a few outside readers. I’m not always sure I do a good job of tagging, though I will add tags and trigger warnings as I go along. If there are tags you think I should add, please let me know!
> 
> Also, I’m shit at planning and plotting. I tend to rely heavily on “flow” when I write. So these ideas may be subject to change.

The premise of this fic is that Cloud is sent back through time and interdimensional travel to save the world. The planet realizes her champion has been working hard at trying to save the world, and for this fic, we will witness _her_ idea of R&R.

Cloud has been time-traveling for centuries at this point, so he is of age. I haven’t decided if he will come back as an underage just yet, but I will add warnings as I go along.

[Day 1: Catboys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781) \- first time, cat ears and tails, mating season and instinct, weirdly consensual

[Day 2: Prep school](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781/chapters/65740396) \- discipline (non-con paddling and caning), humiliation, nudity, underage (implied since it’s prep school) and more.

[Day 3: Vampires](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781/chapters/66104545) \- long and trope-y, dub-con, fuck-or-die, blood drinking, and vanilla-ish sex. Surprisingly fluffy for a vampire fic (and man, I want to use that as a tag). Also light bondage (which I forgot to add earlier).

[Day 4: Horrible Bosses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781/chapters/66208354) \- Secretary Cloud with a domineering Seph. Spanking/punishment, voyeurism, blowjob. Reads as non-con because of when Cloud arrives on the scene, but this is technically consensual non-consent.

[Day 5: Kidnapped Bridegroom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781/chapters/66472459) \- non-con bondage, kidnapping, rape in historical fantasy setting, from Aerith’s POV. Serious consent issues.

[Day 6: Sex Slave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700781/chapters/66519043) \- non-con bondage, unsafe BDSM, mild pet play, asphyxiation, misuse of materia, object insertion, spanking, flogging, etc.

Day 7 - Merman/Siren - non-human intercourse, fishy sex (?), consensual, first time, frottage, medical injury.

I have a few other ideas I will probably add as one-shots at a later date. But I just wanted to finish this one for now.


	2. Day 1 - Catboys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is sent to a universe in which humans evolved into cat-like creatures—basically human with cat ears, tails, fangs, and claws.
> 
> TW: This chapter is quite consensual for what I usually write, but contains references to mating season (which may make things dub-con). Also—cat ears and tails, claws, fangs, scruffing, if that freaks anyone out.
> 
> Also, I do not have a beta, but Grammarly is my friend. I hope this is readable enough!

This time, when I wake, I find myself in a different world. I wake in my childhood home. As always, the first thing I have to do is discover what year it is. If I’m in Nibelheim, perhaps I am very young still. My bed is comfortable and warm, though, and I don't want to get up. I easily justify my feelings and laziness by telling myself I probably have a lot of time to stop Jenova from taking over my childhood hero and the world.

Pale rays from the morning sun creep in through the window. It’s low in the sky, and the windows are covered in frost. It must be late fall. I give a long stretch—popping my neck as I do so—and gods, it feels so good to stretch the entire length of my spine. Something soft brushes my leg. It feels like a cat, and I’m startled since I’m still covered in my blankets. Moving the sheets off my legs, I look down to see a tail—covered in long, thick yellow fur.

For now, I just look at it. This is _impossible_. Although, I’ve been traveling long enough to recognize small details can change a whole lot in any universe. Maybe this is an alternate dimension in which our bodies grew tails as they evolved. I can easily twitch it and move it as I like. I quite enjoy the sensation of the soft fur against my bare legs. I’d better get up before I get any inappropriate ideas.

Standing up from bed, I give another stretch and run my fingers through my hair—startled to find a large set of pointy ears perched on top of my head. They move, too—deliberately and otherwise, tracking sounds efficiently. It’s a little odd, though, since I feel slightly nauseous and feverish as I wake. Perhaps a shower will clear my head and help my disorientation.

I wander into the bathroom, taking a few deep breaths to remain calm. The contents of my bathroom make me think twice about where and when I am, though. This is nothing like the bathroom of my childhood home. None of my mother’s toiletries are on the counter—none of her face cream, nor her bath oil or lotion. The only things here—in this rather untidy bathroom—are my things. And a strange-looking brush, probably intended for my fur.

My reflection peers back at me. I’m unnerved to see slit pupils in my bright blue eyes, as well as the ridiculous pair of oversized ears covered with more fluffy fur than I could have imagined. They match my tail and hair, which is the same golden blonde and completely out of control. Also, I have fangs. They only show if I smile, so I can live with them. My new additions have distracted me so much that I barely notice my age in my reflection. As I start pulling off my clothes intending to shower, my body is as muscular as it was in my late teen years and early twenties. I have only light scarring on my forearms—nothing like that chest wound Sephiroth gave me at the reactor. Strangely, my groin feels warm and heavy. I’ve never been a particularly sexual person, more because I have no time to indulge in bodily pleasure, so the feeling is unfamiliar. Maybe I'm just a slightly larger adolescent? It would explain these weird feelings.

While my chest is still mostly hairless, just beneath my navel a narrow trail of silky blonde fur points toward the waistband of my underwear. I run my fingers through it—surprised when claws extend from my fingernails. What the hell? I have _claws_?! I comb them through the soft fur. It’s oddly soothing.

“It’s high time you enjoyed yourself at least a little on your mission. I’ve changed things up a little this time. Perhaps you can approach this trip differently.”

Aerith’s gentle voice floods my ears as though she is standing next to me. Grabbing my pajama pants from off the floor to cover myself, a soft hiss escapes my mouth. It is a surprisingly feline sound. When I look in the mirror, Aerith is standing on my right slightly behind me, hands on her hips. She isn’t here in reality—only her reflection in the mirror.

“Gaia, you’re _adorable_ as a cat,” she says, smiling gently at me.

“Do you _mind_? A little _privacy_!” I bark. This Aerith is not the same Aerith I knew and loved in my timeline. This Aerith functions as the planet’s avatar. She’s friendly—sometimes overly so—and isn’t above teasing me.

“Aww. I wanted to _see_.” She reaches out her hand and scratches my ears. The touch of her hand feels _so_ nice! I know she isn’t physically standing here since I can’t see her shadow or feel her presence next to me. But still. Watching her touch my ears in the mirror feels good. A soft rumbling sound fills the air, and Aerith covers her mouth and giggles. “Just so _cute_!”

It’s a purr. I am _purring_.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask, crossing my arms and then remembering my effort at modesty, making my pajama pants cover what they need to cover. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“Not at all. I just thought you might be due for a little R&R. You should enjoy this loop, Cloud. You’ve earned it. Plus we’ve decided you need to try a different tactic.”

I don’t disagree that I need a break. The last two loops were not successful—the planet was destroyed in one. In the other, I killed Sephiroth too soon. Genesis ended up infected by Jenova and summoning Meteor in his place. I have saved the planet many times in the past, but at least _one_ close friend always dies. I can’t save everyone. I’ve _never_ been able to save everyone. And I’ve never been able to save Sephiroth. Some champion I’ve turned out to be!

“That’s something different you should try to do here. Save him.” Aerith whispers. “Your sacrifice is great and the planet owes you. So please, take a little happiness for yourself.”

Her reflection fades into a burst of green sparkles, leaving me to my shower. As I scrub the thick fur on my ears with shampoo, I wonder about what she said. Would it make me happy if I could save Sephiroth? I no longer have a childhood fascination with the man, after all. I feel sorry for him—of course. _No_ one would be all right after being treated the way he was treated during childhood and as an adult, he was used for his power by Shinra, Hojo, and Jenova.

As I step out of the shower and dry off, I catch my tail moving in the mirror. My entire body jumps—like a cat would when startled, claws drawn, fur bristling and everything. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all, wrapping myself in a towel and walking back to my bedroom for clothes.

The clothes are different. Of course, they would have to be. My underwear ties just above my tail. My jeans have a space to thread my tail through as well. I’m fascinated by my tail, and it keeps distracting me from getting dressed. I feel silly—like a kitten—and I guess that’s oddly appropriate.

Downstairs, I scrounge up breakfast—and there is no trace of Ma living here in recent history. I wonder if she doesn’t, perhaps. I’ll look around after I have breakfast, hoping some food will get the weird nausea out of my system. As I prepare eggs and toast, my mind wanders to my archenemy, Sephiroth. If he is here—which he should be since Aerith suggested I save him—will he also be a cat?

Something in my chest does a little flip, and my stomach fills with butterflies. It doesn’t help my nausea—or maybe it does, making it feel more intense but less sickening. This feels more like... a crush? Why? Because there’s something utterly appealing about Sephiroth as a cat? He will have silver fur, I’m sure. Long? Like his hair? Either way, he has the right eyes already. Maybe this timeline is his “true” timeline. Where he is _originally_ from. Perhaps he’s a traveler, too? I don’t care. I just want to see him with cat ears and a tail. And I want to pet his fur.

Freezing in the middle of scooping the fried eggs onto my plate, I’m suddenly terribly suspicious. Do I really want to _pet_ Sephiroth? Maybe Aerith is right. Maybe, more than anything, I want to save the man who has brought me so much grief over the years. Maybe I feel empathetic that he had a tragic upbringing—I found out about his “father’s” touch first hand during my years in Hojo’s lab.

I sit down at the table after throwing the pan into the sink. Another way I can tell I live alone is because of all the dishes piled there. Ma would never let me get away with such slovenly living. I proceed to ignore them as I dig into my food. It’s tasty and warm in my stomach, especially with the hot tea with milk and honey. I have a weird urge to drink a little milk directly from the carton, but I resist.

Once I’ve eaten, I add my dishes to the pile in the sink and head into the living room. There’s a newspaper there. It is autumn of my eighteenth year in this timeline. There is no news about Shinra, much to my surprise. I have no idea what else is different in this timeline, either. So, as I have done time and time again, at least when I wake up in Nibelheim, I plan to seek out Vincent in the mansion.

First, however, I am feeling a strange urge to groom myself. It’s weird—but I can’t seem to resist. I lick my forearms and hands, soaking my claws in saliva and noticing how rough my tongue feels. I use my claws to comb through the fur on my ears, reshaping it, straightening it, fluffing it out like I do my hair, and then move to my tail. The soft purr comes from my chest again when I start to groom my tail.

When I look up, it’s been thirty minutes.

“Shit,” I think. This is certainly a first—wasting a half an hour grooming? That’s never happened before. Well. Maybe once or twice—but I wouldn’t call primping to be Don Corneo’s bride “grooming,” exactly. It certainly was nothing like this. This is soothing and pleasant, giving in to my natural instincts. After another long stretch, I'm surprised to hear a soft meow escape my lips. It’s embarrassing. Am I suppose to meow? What the hell? Regardless, I need to find Vincent.

Still feeling a little feverish, I pull on my coat and boots, grabbing a scarf at the last minute as I look outside. The sky is overcast and heavy. It smells like snow when I open the door. I head out into the outskirts of the town—wondering again about Ma. But I need to get on with my task. I barely notice that no one is out and about. The streets are empty, but the houses I pass have soft lights shining in the windows. It’s a little weird, I think.

 _Save him_ , Aerith’s voice echoes in my head. _Find happiness._

Whatever. I head to Shinra’s mansion, surprised to find it in excellent condition. The garden is well-cared for, there are warm lights in the windows, and smoke spills from all its chimneys. It looks lived in and homey. This will change my approach, I suppose. I sure hope Hojo isn't here in this timeline.

I brush a little nervous sweat from my temple before I knock on the door. The fact that I’m sweating is unusual enough—weirder still because it’s so chilly outside. It’s cold enough that my breath, coming in soft pants, is visible. I wait a few minutes, wondering who might open the door—and to my utter shock, it’s Vincent.

He looks different.

And my gods, he looks _adorable_ with brown, softly rounded cat ears on the top of his head. He’s dressed in casual dark wash jeans and a sweatshirt—and I’ve never seen him wear anything other his caped outfit. He doesn’t even have the red headband on. He has both hands— _actual hands_ —no brass claw.

“Ah, good morning, Cloud,” he says, smiling. _Imagine_ —Vincent Valentine wearing a broad smile! “You’re a bit early but expected. Come on in.”

At least he recognizes me, I think with gratefulness. So in this timeline, he knows me. Still, I’m surprised to see him up and about. I follow him into the parlor.

“I could just send you up, I suppose. But let me call him for you,” Vincent says, giving me a quirky, knowing smile. It’s incredibly disconcerting to see Vincent smile—especially in that fatherly way. “Warm up by the fire. And don’t worry. I’ll make myself scarce. You’ve probably guessed I already have plans with your special lady.” With that, he excuses himself.

 _My special lady?_ Who in the _hell_ is that supposed to be? I’ve _never_ had a special lady in my life—even when I believed myself to be Zack, when I saw Aerith in person, all I felt was admiration and platonic love. Nothing romantic or physical.

I am expected. “He” is expecting me. For a moment, my stomach turns over again, and I sincerely hope this isn’t some fucked-up universe in which Hojo is alive and waiting for me. Instead of letting my imagination run away with me and escaping out the front door, I stand in front of the fire, warming my hands, drawing and retracting my claws with interest.

“You came,” a low, familiar voice crawls into my ear. “I wasn’t sure you’d taken me seriously.”

Turning away from the fire, I look up toward the door. Standing in the hallway, dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, is Sephiroth. And holy shit—he’s _adorable_. I knew he’d have long fur! Though his ears are slightly smaller than mine, rounded at the tips like Vincent's, they fit him perfectly. His tail is covered in thick, silver fur, too, and it twitches behind him.

Somehow the mannerism looks a little pushy. I’ve never seen him look like this before. Also, he smells _incredible_. Strangely, I smell his scent from where he’s standing in the entry. It’s slightly sweet—vanilla, maybe, and something delicious, like a cookie.

“I’m here,” I admit. My voice comes out surprisingly soft, and I feel that familiar rumble in my chest. I’m purring _again_. In front of my arch-nemesis. Why am I purring?!

“Dad’s leaving,” Sephiroth says, taking a step closer to me. “He told me he’s off to spend some quality time with your mother. She’s good for him, I think.”

 _Dad_? What _is_ this?

“Dad?” I ask. And shit—that special lady? Vincent and my mom are _what_? _Dating_? Part of my stomach roils at the thought. I push it out of my head.

“Vincent,” Sephiroth says, sounding surprised. “Hey, are you all right?” He takes another two steps closer to me and puts a hand on my head between my ears. A soft electrical pulse snaps between my ears and his fingers, making me gasp in surprise. Then he smiles knowingly, the slit pupils of his eyes dilating. “Ah. I see. You came at just the right time.”

“Right time for what?” I ask, stepping away from him. I feel drawn to the silver cat standing there in a way I can’t quite describe and it's unnerving.

“You really must not be feeling well. Are you okay? Do you want some water? Or something to help you relax a little? Come on,” he says.

Strangely, I comply, following him to the entryway and then up the stairs. My body seems to know instinctively which bedroom is his—as if I’ve been here with him before.

I’m amazed by the state of the mansion. It’s clean and in perfect repair—well lived-in and homey. Photos of Vincent and Sephiroth hang on the wall. There’s one of Vincent holding a baby Sephiroth in his arms. I’m amazed to see them both so happy. It soothes me somehow.

This version of Sephiroth certainly seems less angsty and less eager for world domination, I think. I follow him upstairs, past the library to a large room. It smells delicious in here—his scent permeating the living space. It makes me purr even louder. When I step inside, he closes the door behind me. The fireplace is lit, which Sephiroth tends to briefly. He turns to me again, helping me out of my coat and scarf.

“Do you need something to help you relax? I know we’ve been planning this for a long time now. I don’t want you to think you can’t change your mind.”

I nod. Something to help me relax would be good. I do wonder exactly what we’ve been planning, however. I’ve never really talked to Sephiroth in such a casual setting, either. It’s throwing everything I know about him out the window. He’s charming and sweet and attentive. It should put me on my guard. It doesn’t.

“You don’t need to be so nervous. It’s not like we're strangers. This won’t be so different than what we've already done. Sit down, Cloud.”

After hearing my name in his deep voice, I’m compelled to obey and I lower myself to the loveseat in front of the fire. My body is acting very strange. It feels drawn toward the silver cat in the room with me. My skin tickles with goosebumps and anticipation, my stomach feels floaty, and my chest aches.

Sephiroth pours me something to drink in a small glass and hands it to me.

“Drink it slowly, Cloud.”

I take it to my lips and it has a strange, syrupy texture. It looks like alcohol, but it smells and tastes like mint. It burns a little when the liquid slides down my throat.

“It’s all right. We talked about this. Take a few deep breaths, kitten.”

Kitten? It seems so strange that he’d call me this, though I suppose I am a kitten in this universe. He sits down next to me on the sofa, and my body naturally curls up against him.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it? Are you hot? Achy? Feverish?”

Gentle fingers card through my hair, scratching my ears gently. It feels weird but perfectly natural. This must not be the first time he’s touched me like this if my body is so compliant.

“You know if you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I just thought—well. You know.”

I look up at green eyes, shimmering with desire. That thick silver tail thumps impatiently behind him on the couch. Mine is mimicking his movement and it creeps up, coiling itself around its warm, thick mate.

“What if I don’t know?” I ask, keeping my voice soft. “This morning, I woke up feeling, um, _different_.”

Different is a mild way to put it. I’ve woken up in many places and times, but I’ve never woken with the ears and tail of a cat!

“That’s to be expected. It’s the mating season, after all. Your first. I’m pleased you wanted to spend it with me. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Mating season?” My tone sounds alarmed.

Sephiroth nods.

“Your symptoms—feeling itchy, sore, achy, feverish—all of these will be taken care of. And you shouldn’t feel any discomfort. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Afterward, of course—assuming you enjoy yourself—we will have to take a little more care. But today, your body knows exactly what it needs. You feel it, don’t you?”

“Feel what?”

“Our compatibility,” he purrs, touching my nose with his fingertip. He sends another gentle shock down my nose at the touch. “Gods, you’re cute. And you smell unbelievably tempting.”

Slowly, his meaning sinks into my brain. However, it doesn’t do anything to temper my desire or my eagerness. More than anything, my body wants him to touch me more. The subtle electric shock that sizzles across my skin whenever we touch starts to heat up and pool into a heavy sensation at my groin. Gods—what is wrong with me?

“Don’t worry,” the silver-haired man—no, cat—says. “Vincent has already left and won’t be back till tomorrow. We can take all the time we want. You don’t have to hold back.”

Hold back? This is starting to sound as if he wants us to fuck. Is this what we’ve been planning in this universe? Guilt floods me in an instant because the very idea of him touching me romantically or sexually shouldn’t be something I want. But I can’t help it. My instincts are taking over, the same way I felt while grooming myself this morning and more than anything, I want Sephiroth to touch me, kiss me, make love to me.

_Make love to me._

Why am I not shocked or horrified? But the lust building up in my body overwhelms any concept of shock and horror. My purr vibrates through my whole body, soothing me, and I glance at the silver cat next to me. He looks perfect in the soft light of the fire and the dim morning light through the windows. A low vibration resounds in his chest as well.

“I’m—I’m not feeling well,” I say, suddenly nervous.

Sephiroth puts his hand on top of mine.

“You don’t need to be nervous. I’ll prepare you. You can ask me to stop anytime and I will. But your body needs this. You’ll feel much better soon.”

With those words, he takes my empty glass—and whatever liquor was in it makes my stomach feel warm and heats my body even more—and sets in on the coffee table. Then, he stands up from the couch and scoops me up into his arms, kissing my lips again and again—and he tastes _delicious_. Like his scent—so similar to sugar cookies it’s almost eerie.

Before I realize what has happened, I’m carefully lowered onto the huge, four-poster bed—and the sheets smell like him, too. I’ve never been handled so gently by this super SOLDIER, the Demon of Wutai, the General, the Calamity. My _archnemesis_. His green eyes shine with lust, pupils dilating wide, his fur bristling—and oh, my gods. That fur! It’s so silky soft and plush. He feels amazing—addicting—everything I want!

“May I?” His fingers touch the hem of my shirt, brushing teasingly against my belly.

I’m unable to reply with anything other than a strangled, desperate sound and a nod. He smiles in reply—and not that confident smirk he usually wears. This is open and honest, genuine and sweet—and utterly sexy. Have I always found my archenemy this sexy?

Is this what the planet had in mind for my relaxation? Regardless, I won’t think about it right now.

“Relax, kitten,” Sephiroth whispers, pulling off my shirt and dragging his flat palms across my newly exposed skin. “I know we discussed it and you’re probably feeling anxious and eager. But you will feel so much better if we go slowly as we have been.”

“Slowly?” I echo softly.

“Yes. Just relax and let your instincts take over. Close your eyes if you like.”

When he suggests that, I lean up from the bed and attack him with my mouth, my fangs clumsily nudging his soft lips. He tastes so good. The slightly salty taste of his skin mixes perfectly with the soft vanilla cookie flavor. I hum softly while the silver cat returns my kiss.

“ _Relax_ , I said,” he reminds me, pushing my chest to urge me back to the bed. Once my shirt is off, he carelessly pulls off his t-shirt and flings it across the room. The action is so utterly unexpected that a giggle escapes my lips. I’d always imagined him to be a neat freak—unable to throw his clothes about, compulsively folding each article as he removes them. And he keeps throwing my clothes around too, to my shock.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do. Or this version of him is completely different.

He slides out of his black boxers—standing up next to the bed momentarily. When the waistband of his underwear slips down, his erection springs free. And oh, my gods. A shiver of fear courses up my spine, combining tantalizingly with the lust pooling in my hips. His cock huge—of course, it would be if it were in proportion to the rest of his body. And absolutely gorgeous. Pearly white skin flushes to soft pink, beads of precum glisten at the head. Even the soft hair (or is it fur?) surrounding the base shimmers silver. More than anything, I want to comb my fingers through it. No, I want to _groom_ it!

“Oh, gods,” I murmur in admiration.

I happen to glance up at the owner of the magnificent cock. His expression is soft, his green eyes shimmering with dark, sexy, round pupils—have I seen them so round before?—his long lashes fluttering. His lips are pink and bruised from kissing, and curled up slightly in that adorable smile.

“A cat could get used to this sort of attention, kitten,” he murmurs in a soft bedroom voice. “You really must be out of it this morning. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

I swallow—a loud clicking sound echoing in my ears. Saliva is accumulating in my mouth and I lean forward, letting the heavy weight of his erection rest against my cheek. I glance up at him when I kiss the fluid gathering at the tip, pleased to hear a soft, pleased grunt as I do.

“Cloud—we discussed this.” He sounds hesitant.

“What?”

“Today is about _you_. We’ve waited so long for the season to come around. I want this to be about you. You’re distracting me.”

“Oh—um,” I start, but he presses a finger to my lips.

“Hush. And lie back.”

I’m stripped naked within the next few minutes—and while he is rough and eager to remove my clothes, he lavishes my skin with attention, making my cock strain against the fabric of my underwear before he yanks them off.

“Gaia...” I can’t keep my hips still, and they thrust up against Sephiroth’s skilled fingers.

“Relax, Cloud,” the silver cat reminds me. “Or... do you need a little help?”

“Help?” I ask, mostly echoing the words since I’m currently unable to make any sound come out of my mouth that isn’t complete nonsense.

“If you wish,” he replies, apparently taking my echoed response as a request and quickly flipping me onto my stomach. Startled, I immediately press back on my hands and knees, struggling to regain some control.

He moves his hand up to the nape of my neck, running sharp claws through the short hair at the back of my head. Suddenly, his claws dig deep into my nape. It should hurt and I flinch in preparation for a sharp pain—but I don’t feel even a pinch nor do I feel any blood dripping from where his claws have grabbed me. Instead, a sense of peace, relaxation, and utter safety rushes through my system.

Sephiroth just _scruffed_ me. My body is acting strangely, too—curling in on itself, relaxed, my tail pressing between my legs—and gods, the fur against my naked groin feels so nice! My arms and legs relax, making me sink onto the bed, curling into the mattress in a relaxed ball.

“Good boy,” he whispers. “You’re such a good kitten for me.”

His free hand combs through my hair, the fur on my ears, and then skates down my spine to my tail. It leaves my body for a moment.

“This might feel a little cold, but your body temperature will warm it right up,” he warns, just as his cold fingers caress my entrance beneath my tail.

If I could straighten up and pull away in surprise, I would. However, I don’t even feel the urge to do that. Instead, my body simply eases into relaxation, lying submissively on the bed as one long finger pushes gently past the tight ring of muscle.

It should hurt—or be at least a little uncomfortable. I cannot remember the last time I had sex, but I remember with trepidation the discomfort I felt last time. There’s no pain or even discomfort this time—and a soft, pleading sigh escapes my mouth along with that deep rumbling purr in my chest.

“See? You’re fine. I told you—you don’t feel any discomfort during the mating season. Your body craves this connection.”

The fingers outside my body caress the base of my tail and my ass, and another finger slips inside. With two fingers, I’m stretched carefully, slowly, tenderly—and the irony of how gently Sephiroth is treating me floods me all at once. What is this? What is this universe? Would connecting with my archenemy physically (sexually) have prevented his madness in my original timeline? Is that the problem? He’s desperate and alone, craving physical bonding?

Have I wasted my time all these years?

_*Hush, Champion. You are just experiencing something new. Just go with it.*_

The planet’s voice echoes deep inside my head—and a hot pink blush fills my cheeks (and possibly my ears) when I realize Aerith might be watching me.

_*Oh, stop. You’ll have your privacy. I am just checking in. You’re completely alone and safe.*_

Her presence disappears from my mind—and just then, a shivering spike of pleasure sparks up my spine. From how the silver cat’s fingers are stretching me, he’s discovered my prostate. It feels amazing.

“Don’t hold back your voice. Let me hear you,” he purrs into my ear.

A third finger slips inside as he keeps me scruffed and continues to prep my body. Soon, he releases my scruff. My paralyzation slowly dissolves, but the peace and relaxation stay, combining with a near overwhelming sexual need and lust. Despite my efforts to stay quiet, a series of soft, panting sighs escape my lips each time he touches my sensitive bundle of nerves. More pleasure grips my chest when the hand formerly dug into my nape caresses my hips and teases my leaking erection.

Soon, however, he pulls his hands from my body, leaving me empty. I’m gently nudged onto my back, feeling my flushed cheeks deepen to a darker red. I meet Sephiroth’s eyes, which are heavily lidded and framed in luscious dark lashes. He’s utterly gorgeous—and I have never wanted anyone so much. My skin tries to reach out to more of him, _touch_ more, _connect_ more.

Confusion and bewilderment blend with heavy arousal as I examine his face. His smile is soft and welcoming, and his voice seeps into my ears like honey. My ears twitch as if his voice physically touches them.

“Are you ready?”

I nod, swallowing again. My body is relaxed but extremely aroused. He spreads my thighs and pushes my legs flush against my chest before resting my calves over his shoulders.

“This shouldn’t hurt at all. If it does, tell me and I’ll stop.” Something gentle and hesitant hovers in his tone. It's nothing like I've ever heard from him before.

I nod again, still unable to speak. His hot, heavy cock nudges at my entrance. His head tilts down to watch as he presses inside. An unearthly sound escapes my mouth at the sensation. I am stretching to accommodate him, but there is no pain.

“Gaia, Cloud—you look so gorgeous like this,” he murmurs as he advances slowly into my body. His cock is much bigger than his fingers, but the pain I keep expecting never comes. It feels good—it feels right. It feels—“Your body is sucking me in.”

His soft narration embarrasses me and heats me up at the same time. I didn’t realize it but apparently, a little dirty talk presses my buttons in just the right way. And what else helps is when Sephiroth’s cock drags right along that swollen bundle of nerves he’s been teasing with his fingers. What embarrasses me even more, though, is the uncontrolled, desperate moan that escapes my lips—along with a soft meow. I could never get used to the purring and meowing!

“Your fangs—they are so cute and perfect,” he murmurs, pulling away from me to watch my expression melt into helpless pleasure as he deliberately and slowly drags his cock against my most sensitive area. “And your voice...”

“Shut up,” I whisper between gasps—unable to control my voice or stem even the least of my embarrassment. I’m quickly being swept away by passion, however.

Sephiroth chuckles—low, vibrating, deep like his purr—and he moves his hands from supporting himself on either side of my body. He leans back on his knees, moving my body closer to his. One hand disappears behind my hips, grabbing the base of my tail and slowly brushing the fur backward. My fur bristles and the firm touch of his hand sends waves of pleasure up my spine.

“Gaia...” I whisper. Another loud meow slips out when his other hand encircles my cock.

So much stimulation—slamming against my prostate while maneuvering my hips in time with his thrusts, controlling my body's movement with the hand on my tail, making me fuck his hand—I hardly know what to do with myself. I throw my head back and gasp—letting out another moan and meow.

When I dare meet the steady, melting gaze of the man fucking me, long fangs peek out from his lips. Combined with bristled fur and dilated pupils, I recognize arousal and attraction. This is an expression I recognize—from one of the many, many times I’ve killed this man (or he has killed me). My chest hurts, my heart aches, at the thought that all this time, all this suffering could have been avoided if I’d just approached things differently! If only I’d approached Sephiroth with literal open arms...

“Hey, hey...” Sephiroth slows down, stopping all movement as he touches my cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s all right. You’re all right. Am I hurting you?”

Tears are flowing helplessly down my face and to my horror, I give a loud sob as a growling, hissing sound escapes my throat, shaking my head.

“I’m... I’m...”

“Shh. It’s all right. We’ll just wait a minute.” Strong arms wrap around me—and feeling my body pressed so close to that muscular chest (and oh, my gods, his cock is still inside me!) makes me melt.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, my breath hitching. I catch my lip on one of my fangs as I try to speak. Sephiroth only pulls me closer, holding me tight to his chest so I can hear his pounding heartbeat, combing the fur on my ears gently. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize. Do you want to stop?”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” I say.

“You’re all right to continue?”

“Please—fuck me, Seph.”

My chin is brushed lightly, nudged to meet his eyes. That soft smile is back on his lips. And then his hips start to move again.

I’m held down against the bed now—one hand on my hip, one at the base of my tail—all of the larger man’s body weight holding me in place as he fucks me into the mattress. Deliberately moving against the most sensitive parts of my insides and finally giving my cock some much-needed friction against his stomach, I submit to the touch completely, a weightless pleasure washing over me.

Never in a million years would I have ever imagined this gorgeous man fucking me—and he is doing exactly that—while I relax and submit. Well, perhaps I _did_ imagine something like this when I still idolized the man. Either way, it’s an incredibly powerful feeling and way better than I could have imagined.

Even the smell of the sweat glistening on his chest sends waves of arousal further into my body—my groin, my ass, up my spine, tingling the base of my neck, down into my thighs. The feelings build up powerfully—and I feel him getting even harder inside of me as I squeeze him tight.

“Gods—Seph— _please_...”

He snaps his hips against me, the sound of our flesh meeting colors the air, marked only by the constant purring from both of us. This feels better than my dirtiest wet dream before I ever left Nibelheim.

“I’m close,” I gasp, letting another meow slip from my mouth. “I’m so fucking close...”

“Just come, Cloud.” The way my name curls around his lips and slips into my ear feels eerily familiar. His sexy voice tempts me and makes me wonder if I have wanted this for years—decades or centuries—since my time-traveling adventure began. Has _he_ wanted this, too? “Come for me, kitten.”

And I do—my entire body tensing and my vision flashing white. Unbearable pleasure bursts from my core through my limbs and out my cock, splashing against my stomach and chest. When I manage to crack open my eyes, I’m thrilled to see the utterly indulgent expression in those glowing green eyes, ears twitching to the sound of my pleasure. I’m just in time to watch his pupils dilate and then contract into needles as a pleasured moan escapes his lips with a vibration to match his loud purr.

He spills hot inside me. His cock doesn’t soften right away—I still feel him pulsing as he collapses exhausted but playful against my body, pinning me to the mattress. Part of me thinks I should feel used and vulnerable—but not even a trace of those feelings can be found.

A soft, pleasant, warm feeling surrounds my body as our purring mixes together in the quiet room. I run my fingers through the soft fur of his tail and he finally pulls out. I wince slightly—not sore, but embarrassed of the cum that leaks out of me, coating my balls and seeping between my now tightly closed thighs. If this is what Gaia had in mind for rest and relaxation, I could be on board!

“Mmm,” I murmur.

“Was it worth the wait?” He asks, nosing the juncture between my throat and shoulder, licking and nipping my skin.

“Gaia, yes,” I reply, grabbing his cheeks and meeting his lips in a passionate kiss.

“Well, you should be happy to hear that symptoms can last a couple of days,” he says, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

“Seph—let me recover a little first!”

“Oh, I will. I’m setting my internal clock for you now. You’re eighteen, so I’ll give you... say, fifteen minutes?”

I jerk my chin up to meet his gaze. He can’t be serious—! But he simply grins down at me. Seeing him playful and teasing me hurts something deep inside my heart.

“Relax,” he whispers into my ear, flopping down on the bed beside me and turning my body around. Both hands massage my chest, toying with my nipples. My skin is utterly oversensitive now, and the soft, teasing touch is too ticklish to bear! “I’m only teasing. We can go at whatever pace you like.”

Then, the damp touch of his lips and tongue caress the tip of my ear. It seems he is grooming me. It takes a moment to realize that the obnoxious, wet purr filling my ears is actually _me_.

“That was amazing. You are so gorgeous, Cloud. I've waited so long for this.”

 _So have I_. My eyes drift shut, relaxing in the arms of my lover, wondering how I might use this newly acquired information during my next trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me here—I love feedback. 
> 
> I’m really, really nervous about posting anything in such a robust fandom, and I feel like I should probably qualify my post by saying I write mostly PWP or Smut What Plot on AO3. So if you’re looking for plot, move right along. :)


	3. Day 2 - Prep School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different from the first. It takes place in an AU in which Cloud is a student at a prestigious prep school designed for students who want to join SOLDIER. He finds himself in trouble with the headmaster. For reference, Cloud wakes sitting in a waiting area with a referral slip in his hand, confused as hell as how he got there. This is told from Sephiroth’s point of view.
> 
> CW: non-con (very non-con), paddling, caning, nudity, masturbation. Also, since this is a prep school, I’m tagging this as underage, though I don’t state Cloud’s age here. Just... for any sensitive readers.

Sighing with irritation as I sit at my desk, I press the intercom button to order the school secretary to let in the next pupil. I’m shocked to recognize his identity, when he curiously steps into my office, looking around as if he’s never set foot in here before, closing the door behind him. The soft blonde spikes and bright blue eyes make him more memorable than any previous offender, in my eyes. If I weren’t the headmaster of the school, I would act on my attraction toward this student. But as things stand, I’m disappointed to find the formerly obedient student in my office. The _second_ time this week!

“What is it _this_ time, Cadet Strife?” I ask. “To see you so soon after last time makes me think there’s a deeper issue we need to address.”

“Sir?”

Right away, I can tell something is different. His tone is more confident than that nervous boy I scolded on Tuesday. The way he looks around irritates me. He should remember what happened in this very office not three days earlier.

“Cadet,” I say sharply. “Did you forget your place?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” he replies, falling into attention at once. Usually such a compliant student, his casual, relaxed body posture takes me by surprise. Plus, I rather enjoy seeing his small, young body stand straight at attention.

“You couldn’t wait till the weekend to act out again? Let’s see the referral.”

He looks up at me, confused. His little act is getting old fast.

“The _referral_ ,” I repeat, holding out my hand for the papers he is gripping in his fist.

He reluctantly hands them over. The first slip is a referral from Genesis, the materia instructor. If this cadet is as eager to get into SOLDIER as he claims, he ought to know better than to get on the nerves of one of the best materia users in Shinra twice in one week. The second item in his hand appears to be a hand-written note—scribbled quickly and most likely passed in class.

> **Student Behavior Referral**
> 
> **Student Name:** Cloud Strife
> 
> **Rank:** Cadet
> 
> **Instructor:** Commander Genesis Rhapsodos
> 
> **Class:** Introduction to Materia
> 
> **Date of Offense** : 10/02/0001
> 
> **Time of Offense:** Period 1, 0900 hours
> 
> **Location of Offense:** Materia wielding classroom, G-102
> 
> **Description of Offense:** Cadet Strife was caught passing notes during the lecture portion of the class. Disrespect, insubordination, failure to follow a direct order.
> 
> **Previous Incidents Involving Student:** 09/29/0001, Cadet Strife was discovered with inappropriate reading material in the same class. He hid the comic book in the classroom materials and refused to put it away when asked.
> 
> **Corrective Efforts:** Three warnings, as per standard protocol. The first warning was ignored. The second warning, the cadet was asked to spend five minutes of class time in the hallway. The third warning involved this referral due to the contents of the attached note.
> 
> **Instructor Recommendations:** This instructor feels that the punishment for the 09/29/0001 incident was insufficient. Recommends corporal punishment for a longer-lasting effect, severe enough to interfere with the cadet’s free time over the weekend.

I sigh again, signaling my disappointment. When Strife made his appearance three days ago, I was met with sparkling blue eyes and eagerness to please. He cringed as expected when I chewed him out, but the additional PT and toilet cleaning duty didn’t have the expected effect. I’m surprised to see the cadet in my office again. He cowered when I scolded him for disrespect, and I was certain that between the ass chewing, punishment laps, and cleaning duty, we’d solved the problem.

“Tell me why you’re here, Cadet,” I start. There’s a strange pause as if the cadet doesn’t remember where he is or why. Again, the innocent act is getting old _fast_. “Speak up. I don’t have all day, and I don’t appreciate you wasting my valuable time with your insubordination.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he mutters again, daring a glance at my face despite the fact he is supposed to be staring straight ahead while at attention.

“Eyes forward, Cadet!” I snap, making my voice sound more irritated than I am.

“Insubordination, sir,” he confesses, staring at the wall behind me.

“So it says on your referral slip. Do you realize that in the past three years, Instructor Rhapsodos has not referred a _single_ student to my office? And yet, twice within the same week, you stand before me, facing punishment.”

He meets my gaze in astonishment—and for the life of me, he looks bewildered.

“Did you hit your head on the way here, Cadet?” I ask. “I told you to keep your eyes forward.”

His lack of remorse is bold, especially in my office.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Not as sorry as you _will_ be,” I mumble, paging past the referral and glancing at the offensive note Genesis confiscated. As I skim the note, recognizing Cadet Strife’s hurried handwriting at once, heavy warmth blossoms in my belly. “What the fuck is this?”

Strife lowers his gaze to his feet as if his boots have suddenly become incredibly interesting.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t _know_?” I’m amazed. I place the note on the edge of my desk, flattening it out so he can read it. “This _is_ your handwriting, isn’t it?”

He glances down to look at it, a blush flaring in his cheeks.

“It looks like it, sir.”

Clicking my tongue in a mixture of disgust, confusion, and a hint of something I very well know should not be there, I open my mouth again.

“It _looks_ like it?” I echo. “You _wrote_ the damned thing. Do you know what it says?”

“I... um, I don’t remember, sir.” He won’t meet my gaze, though his flushed face gives him away.

“You don’t remember,” I repeat, unable to hide my disbelief. Certain indignation rises in my chest, and my brain starts mulling through punishment options. A soft smile curves up my lips when I reach the perfect solution. “I see. Perhaps we should refresh your memory. Only this time, with added consequences.” I pause for dramatic effect and get no response.

It’s so out of character for this normally passive, compliant, obedient student. Only three days ago, I brought him to tears just by scolding him. This note is _much_ more incriminating than the dirty doujinshi he had been perusing during class time. Shocking—really—as I saw the comic myself. It was a fan art book published by the Silver Elite, depicting a comic version of me doling out physical punishments to disobedient students. I understand what this cadet is after, but I doubt he will find it as pleasurable as he expects.

“Cadet, please fetch me the paddle mounted above the cabinet to your left.”

Strife pales slightly when he looks to the left. It appears he notices this for the first time—but I know this can’t be right. That stupid comic book depicted that paddle in all its glory, and I saw him sneaking furtive glances at it the last time he was in here for disciplinary measures. He drags his feet and reaches for it. I can’t help noticing the slim strip of gorgeous pale skin and the briefest suggestion of ass crack peeking out between the hem of his uniform shirt and his low-riding trousers as he reaches up on his tiptoes for the implement. The cadet is violating the uniform code as well by not tucking in his shirt appropriately and wearing his trousers at his waist. Soft booted steps bring the paddle to my desk, laying it down gently and then stepping back into attention.

“Strife, are you aware you’re in violation of the uniform code?”

“Sir?” He asks, his voice covered with convincing surprise. “I-i don’t think I am—”

“Don’t argue with your superior! You should know better than to backtalk.” He snaps his mouth closed and looks either angry or irritated. I don’t miss a subtle eye roll, either. The kid has more guts than I expected. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Oh, um, no, sir. There’s just a cobweb in the corner up there that caught my eye.”

There _is_ no cobweb. My office is perfectly clean.

“ _Cadet_ ,” I say, lowering my voice into something silky and threatening. I’ve been told that my calm voice is much more frightening to the students than angry scolding. “This is the second time you’ve shown your face in my office this week. We need to fix this.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies woodenly.

“I trust you saw the commander's recommendation, so this should not come as a surprise.”

“No, sir.” His face is neutral, still slightly confused, and angry. I catch him moving just a bit as if checking over his uniform and straightening his jacket.

“Don’t bother with that. We’re going to get to the bottom of this immediately. As you’re aware from our discussion on Tuesday, I’m not overly fond of corporal discipline. But in this case, the extra PT and cleaning duties you were assigned have _not_ fixed the problem. So we will try something else. Strip.”

That catches his attention. His chin jerk suddenly, his crystal blue eyes meet mine directly. He does not look frightened—he looks angry. The little blonde is _angry_. If _anyone_ has the right to be angry, it’s me. And perhaps Genesis, since it was his class that was interrupted. I’m stunned.

“You heard me,” I say softly. “If I have to assist you, your punishment will be much worse.”

“This is against the officer’s code of conduct. Sir.” The cadet looks at me directly when he says this.

“In the regular military, I’d agree. It’s one of the reasons I don’t prefer corporal punishment. However, you’re not _in_ the regular military. You’re at Shinra’s prep school, training to be a SOLDIER. If you’d read the student handbook, you’d be familiar with our discipline protocols. After your first infraction, if there is no immediate improvement, further discipline is left to the administrator's discretion.”

“There's nothing discreet _about_ this. Sir."

I can hardly believe his tone.

"What tone are you taking with me, Strife?"

"Sir?” His voice shakes just a little.

“Don’t make this any worse than it already is, Cadet. If you don’t bother wearing your uniform correctly, you certainly won’t mind going _without_ for the duration of your punishment. If you can't obey my order, perhaps we might perform your punishment publicly. Perhaps in the quad, bent over one of the picnic tables at noon?”

A groaning protest escapes his lips—which astounds me, coming from this usually mild-mannered student. What the hell has gotten into him? It’s as if he’s someone else—or possibly, an older version of the young student I’ve grown to enjoy seeing in the halls. I don’t exactly hate it, but it’s certainly inappropriate for the time and place.

“Strife.” He glances up from his boots again. “If I have to ask you again, you will regret it.”

“Sir,” he acknowledges, and he bends down to start unlacing his boots.

He sure takes his sweet time about it. I try not to let it get to me, and I enjoy the slow striptease instead. It isn’t that the cadet _means_ to be seductive. It’s just not every day that such a cute student strips in my office. This is the first corporal punishment I’ve issued this school year, and I’d never have guessed Cloud Strife would be its recipient. While I don’t appreciate his behavior, I don’t mind that it’s him.

As he is the first, I will ensure it makes a lasting impact. So to speak. I smile inwardly at the pun. Angeal would be proud, I think.

After the boots come off and are placed gently on the guest chair, Strife peels off his socks one at a time. Even his bare feet are delicate and cute. We run our cadets' asses off at this prep school, and I’m pleased to see he hasn’t developed blisters on his toes from all the exercise. That will leave me to do the heavy blistering. I can’t suppress my smile—again, I must be learning from Angeal and Genesis. I'm sure I'm on the way to losing my social awkwardness.

Next, the cadet carefully unbuttons his uniform jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair. He pulls off his tie in a manner that is incredibly efficient—weirdly efficient for a first-year student. Surely, he’s never worn ties before coming here, and we’ve only been in session for a month so far. As I noticed earlier, his shirt is untucked. I point it out.

“Your uniform violation. Your shirt must remain tucked in and your trousers must be worn at your waist.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies nervously.

His hands are trembling, and his eyes jump from his hands on the buttons of his shirt to the large wooden paddle waiting for him menacingly on my desk. He strips off his undershirt and then removes his belt. Then, his uniform trousers are unbuttoned and unzipped, and he steps out of them, giving me a soft, frightened look with those gorgeous blue eyes. I noticed Tuesday that his lashes are oddly dark for a blonde, and gods, his nipples looks so cute and pink and perky against his developing chest muscles.

For a split second, I consider letting him stay in his underwear. Those eyes are awfully hard to resist. And because I know this is going to be a lengthy punishment, I allow it, to start.

“Sir?” He asks softly.

“That will do. For now. Assume the position.”

“Sir?!” He sounds shocked and surprised—though I warned him clearly about what would happen if I were to see him in my office a second time. He knows what he’s earned. It almost feels like he _wants_ this—like he annoyed Genesis on purpose, knowing he’d be brought to my office and spanked. I remember our conversation clearly because I've been fantasizing about it for the past few nights.

“You heard me. No more delays. Brace both hands on my desk and move your hips up as close as possible. You’ll need all the help you can get to withstand the blows.”

He obeys, carefully, looking miserable and frightened now. I can’t figure out why he is so surprised, so I should probably clarify what is happening. Standing up from my desk, I walk over to him, leaning over his body threateningly. I hear a soft gasp escape from his lips—and it doesn’t exactly sound like fear. This sounds almost _sexual_.

Shit—I know better than to respond to a student like this. But he’s standing almost naked in my office, bent over my desk in a position I’ve imagined for other reasons many times.

“You knew what would happen if you ended up in here again, Cloud. You've earned this.” I enjoy using his first name, watching a shiver ripple down his spine. A slight sheen of sweat beads at his neck, and he smells delicious—clean and young and innocent. “We discussed it the last time you were in my office. The only reason I can imagine you annoying your instructor a second time in the same week is that you want this punishment.”

“N-no, sir,” he stammers, keeping his eyes on my desk.

While bending over him, I move the incriminating evidence (that ridiculous note) before his eyes, watching a fresh blush blossom on his cheeks. He shifts back and forth slightly and gulps audibly.

“Are you disagreeing with your superior officer?”

“N-no, sir,” he stutters again. “I j-just, um, I forgot. Sir.”

He visibly flinches when my hand reaches up to grab the paddle from my desk. While I’m not _usually_ a fan of paddling, something inside my chest gives a little flutter once the heavy wooden handle rests in my hand. Seeing the slim body bent over my desk is utterly tempting.

“Keep in mind this is for _your_ benefit, Cadet,” I purr into his ear, enjoy his scent and watching goosebumps cover his neck. “Unfortunately for your body, but fortunately for your education and future in SOLDIER, you are the first student to earn such a punishment this school year. I need to make sure the lesson sinks in. We need to set an example for the other students, you see.”

“Yes, s-sir,” he says, his voice trembling now.

“So. This is what you will do,” I say, casually resting the blade of the paddle against his wonderfully perky ass, moving his hips flush against my desk. “Spread your legs, Cadet, so you will be able to take your punishment. Keep your hands right where they are. If you move from this position, I will add penalty strokes. I plan to start with twelve swats for the referral.”

“Yes, sir,” comes his miserable reply.

“Now, I’d like you to read the note you wrote during valuable class time. Reading it will refresh your memory and help this lesson sink in.”

To my surprise, he turns toward me, his mouth gaping.

“Sir— _please_ , sir—”

I lightly smack his barely clothed ass with the paddle—not a real strike, though. Only a gentle reminder of what is to come. I take him by surprise and he squirms in discomfort.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself, Cadet,” I say, letting my lips curl around the word “cadet.” “You knew what would happen. I warned you.”

“But sir—”

I smack him again, a little harder, but still not as hard as I’m planning for the actual punishment. He yelps and flattens his chest against my desk, gripping it firmly with his hands. Gods, that voice is so cute!

“I _told_ you not to make it worse. Now. Please read. You will be punished if I can’t hear you properly, so be sure to speak loud and clear.”

Cloud opens his mouth, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath, and he begins to read the incriminating note.

“Cameron, after my last run-in with the headmaster, General Sephiroth—”

I take that moment to lay into him with the first real swat. It echoes loudly in the room and pushes a louder yelp out of the cadet. His ass jiggles perfectly—a mix of well-defined, developing muscle and the irresistible, soft curve. His knees straighten but he does well not to move.

“Go on,” I order.

“G-general Sephiroth, the, um, erotic dreams plaguing me for the past month have—”

Smack! The second blow lands lower than the first, and I plan to add more to that sensitive area as we continue. His knees bend a little more and a louder cry escapes, though he is trying to bite it back. When he doesn’t continue reading, I remind him one last time.

“Cadet, if I have to remind you to read again, I will add to your punishment. Read.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he says miserably. His fingers dig into the top of the desk and move to the edge where he can get a better grip. I won’t be surprised when I see his hands moving back to cover his ass, but he’s doing well to maintain his position for now. “... For the past month have involved another run-in with the general.”

Smack!

The third blow is centered fully on his ass, and it sounds more solid than the prior two. It also appears painful, since his hands loosen from the desk at the same time another soft cry spills from his lips. But he does well and continues reading.

“More than anything, I long for his, uh, attention.”

Smack!

Personally, I’ve had erotic dreams involving this particular blonde cadet as well. But since I’m the headmaster, there’s no one here to punish me for having them and I wouldn't share them with anyone by being stupid enough to pass notes about them in class. This time, his cry sounds more like a sob, but he bravely continues.

“He promised me physical correction—ah!”

This time, a sharp cry of pain accompanies his reading, and I stiffen in my leather pants. The fifth swat lands much lower on his body, catching his ass and his upper thighs. I’m dying to see what that gorgeous pale skin looks like, bruised from the paddle.

“... Correction for my next infraction and I—ouch!”

The sixth blow (and gods, this has come much too quickly for my taste—am I already halfway through?!) startles him and makes him pull his legs together.

“Maintain your position, Cadet,” I whisper. Once he’s back in position, I give him another gratuitous spank to punish his disobedience.

“Shit!” He’s taken by surprise, and the swear word gives me a chance to land another free blow on his ass. I take full advantage, admiring how he struggles to stay still.

“Watch your language, boy,” I murmur. I add one more when he doesn’t immediately continue reading his note, and he screams without swearing this time.

“... N-next infraction and I-i c-couldn’t r-resist,” he stammers through the pain. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and I land another spank centered on his left cheek. This is only the seventh swat, I think proudly. And then—I will punish him for his uniform violation.

“Um, I w-was trying to c-come up w-with a b-believable scenario—ah!”

The eighth lands centered on his right cheek, and I admire how his body flattens against the desk. His hands are gripping it tightly, though, and he stays in position.

“... S-scenario to earn m-myself a s-second referral—ow!”

The ninth is low again—and he should feel it when he sits for a week if I strike him here a few more times.

“... And I c-came up w-with—ngh!” He bites his cheek when the tenth blow connects, shaking him to his core and pushing his hips firmly against my desk. I don’t hold back and add the eleventh blow right afterward, low on his ass and hard.

“Sir!” He protests, looking back at me. “That’s m-more than you s-said—”

“I told you I’d add a penalty if you refused to comply or maintain your position. So maintain. Your. Position.” I rain down three extra blows on his poor ass, accenting the last three words. He shouts in pain after each one, and sweat starts to drip down his neck onto my desk.

“... Um, uh, th-the perfect w-way to g-get h-his attention.” I wait patiently for him to continue. “S-sending notes in class t-to irritate Genesis—”

I land the final blow on his ass when I read that he refers to his instructor as “Genesis” rather than by his title, watching his feet lift one at a time as if to escape the pain. But he bravely continues.

“... describing m-my desire for additional ph-physical contact with the gorgeous m-man. I w-will t-take whatever I, uh, c-can get. I’d b-be thrilled with the paddle, t-to be honest, as m-much as I’d, um, prefer his hand.” He stammers out the rest of the note as quickly as possible, then rests his head against my desk.

His cheeks are flaming and glistening with sweat and tear tracks. I land the final blow on the back of his underwear because he lowered his face to the desk and moved out of position. He was not expecting it and shivers in pain. He knows what it’s for, though, and straightens himself right back up.

“Good,” I say, then I lower my voice and speak into his ear. “I didn’t go easy on you. You knew I wouldn’t. Tell me, is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Y-yes, s-sir.” His voice is covered in suppressed tears and sobs, and he’s incredibly embarrassed. He looks absolutely adorable and he's about to look even better.

“Now, let’s address the uniform issue.” I pace slowly back and forth behind him for a few moments, letting his ass simmer down. If I were to start the next portion of his punishment right away, his skin might be numb. “In my opinion, as the general of Shinra’s army, uniforms are part of maintaining discipline and order in the troops. When a lowly cadet takes it upon himself to dress carelessly, he flouts the rules and shows disrespect. In your case, flashing bare skin around your peers is a needless temptation. You could cause bodily damage if you were to flaunt your skin so openly on a mission, for example.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he says, the tears finished but his voice reflecting fear.

“We’ll be changing your position for this punishment,” I say, proud of myself for including both of us in his discipline. “Lose the drawers, Cadet.”

“S-sir?”

“I have already added an additional blow because of your hesitation. Don’t make me add another.”

“Um—sir, yes, sir.” He struggles to obey, wincing as he slides his boxers off his hips. He folds them neatly and adds them to the pile of clothes. It’s charming how he keeps his hands in front of his private parts—but I don’t miss the fact that blood has pooled in the region. When he returns to lower his torso to the desk, I click my tongue while admiring his red skin.

“Ah, ah, ah. I said a change in position, Strife. Take the paddle and put it away, please.”

He obeys. It’s a heady power trip to command the gorgeous, naked cadet this way. His ass is red and bruised, but I don’t see any welts. He looks grateful to take the paddle off my hands, and I smirk to see exactly how much blood has pooled in his groin. Perhaps he is one of the lucky ones who enjoy a certain degree of pain. I didn’t hold back, and he looks sore, but for some—and apparently for Strife—even pain will produce sexual arousal, adding to his humiliation. Gods, the realization is _hot_.

His dick is as gorgeous as he is. For his shorter stature, he is surprisingly well endowed, especially when erect. His cock is flushed an angry red—matching his gorgeous ass. I admire him for a moment, watching his legs shake as he replaces the paddle.

“Bring me the cane.”

He balks at this, turning to me, his face paling.

“S-sir, _please_ —”

“You said it yourself, Strife. You _wanted_ this, didn’t you? You can’t exactly get out of it now. The cane.” I hold out my hand expectantly. And he obeys. It’s just fucking _hot_. He shyly places the cane in my hand and waits for instructions.

“How do you want me, sir?” Gaia—the way he asks is incredibly enticing and delicious. Does this innocent boy even understand what he is asking? I smile, more gently than I intend.

“Turn around, widen your stance, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

Delighted, I watch a shudder course down the poor cadet’s body. He is quaking with fear. The softest parts of his ass quiver enticingly. Because his head is lower, combined with his embarrassment, the blush creeps into his ears and neck. To my delight, he licks his lips as if in anticipation.

Stepping up to his vulnerable form, I trace the bruises with my fingertips, watching another shudder flow through him. He’s beautiful like this—and he will be even lovelier decorated with the slim welts of the cane. Suddenly it occurs to me that I might actually enjoy corporal punishment more than I’d admit.

“Because uniforms are a part of maintaining discipline, and distracting your fellow cadets could lead to serious injury, I’m afraid this is a more serious infraction than annoying your instructors in class.”

“Sir... yes, sir,” he concedes. I can almost hear the tears start to fall and I haven’t even touched him with the cane.

I swing the cane in several practice arcs, slightly disturbed by how enjoyable the swishing sound is. I haven’t had to use it in the past year at all. Usually, students who suffer from a paddling learn right away to obey. But since Strife is the first in his class to openly flout my authority, he will set the example to other students.

“Additionally, as I explained before, you are the first cadet to step so far out of line this school year, Strife. The cane—” I give it another experimental swish, and the sound it makes cutting through the air is much more attractive than the paddle. “The cane will leave obvious welts that your peers will notice during showers and in the locker room. Twelve of the best—well, thirteen with the extra you've earned for your delay—and I will add additional penalty strokes if you move from this position.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

I touch his injured, burning skin—and my gods, it is gorgeous!—before taking a step back. He is flexible, too—easily able to hold his ankles. I can even see his reddened face between his legs, and he squeezes those gorgeous blue eyes shut to hide them from me.

“Count, Cadet.”

The first swish of the cane lands across the fullest part of his bottom, making the skin shiver and jiggle perfectly. He lets out a scream and struggles to keep his hands on his ankles.

“One.”

“One _what_?” I ask, giving him an extra swat. Of course, he screams again.

“Ah! One, s-sir,” he yells, shifting back and forth on his legs—not enough to lift his feet, though, which would warrant an additional swat.

“Good boy.”

The next blow (the _real_ second blow) leaves a bright red welt below the first two. The first two welts are already raised, irritated white lines surrounding each stripe.

“T-two, sir!”

Then I land the third and fourth in quick succession, and the fourth takes him by surprise. He screams when the cane connects with his bruised sit spot.

“Three—and, um, f-four, sir,” he gurgles. Tears are flowing from his eyes at this point.

I land the next two blows in the same way, only lower, catching his slim, muscular thighs with each one.

“G-gods _damn_ it!” He shouts, and I don’t give him a chance to count yet, landing two more sharp blows on his ass and thighs. “ _Shit_ —!” And then another two. He screams and sobs, trying to catch his breath. His fingers dig into the skin around his ankles, and his chest hitches in sobs.

“I’d suggest you watch your language, Cadet, or we will be here all day.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he mumbles. “Um, f-five and six. Sir.”

I continue the quick whipping motion, covering his ass and thighs with perfectly spaced, parallel stripes. Like an artist, I leave my mark on the blonde’s slim body, and a rush of endorphins floods me as I hear him struggling to count each one.

“S-seven, sir! Eight—ah!—sir! N-nine, sir! Ngh—t-ten, sir! Mmm! Eleven, sir!” It’s difficult to understand the words spilling from his lips.

When I land the second to last welt across the crease just between his ass and thighs, he straightens up with a start and yells, “ _Fuck_!” At the top of his lungs.

“Cloud.” I don’t keep the disappointment from my voice. “Maintain. Your. Position. And watch your language.”

“S-sorry, sir—I’m s-so s-sorry—ah! P-please—ah!—please, sir!”

I swat him four more times for losing his position and swearing, watching as the red stripes darken over the deep pink bruising from the paddle.

“Last one, Cadet. Take it like a SOLDIER.”

“Ah!” He screams again—and finally complies. “Th-thirteen, s-sir.”

“Now. Good boy. Thank me for the lesson.”

“Th-thank you, s-” But I don’t let him finish.

“ _Get on your knees_ and thank me for the lesson.”

He turns around—displaying his gorgeous, red, throbbing erection just before he drops to his knees. He bows before me, head low, and murmurs, “Th-thank y-you for the l-lesson, sir.”

“Apologize for your actions. Your note was rude and distracting in class. And uniform violations are inappropriate. Save the flirting for your free time.”

“I-I’m so s-sorry, f-for p-passing d-disrespectful n-notes and f-for n-not taking c-care of m-my uniform. Th-thank you f-for teaching m-me.”

“Good boy,” I praise him, watching with fascination as those red-rimmed blue eyes look up at me, surprised by the praise. “I’d like you to consider your actions and think about what you can do better. Get into the corner.”

He stands up, giving his sore ass a rub both his hands. I take advantage and smack his hand with the cane—a quick but painful blow. He yelps in pain, moving his injured hand away swiftly and looking up at me with a surprisingly indignant expression. He doesn’t look sorry enough, I think.

“I didn’t permit you to touch yourself.” I grab his chin and force eye contact, narrowing my eyes and making him cower. “While you’re having corner time, I will consider how I might punish _that_ offense.”

“I-i apologize, s-sir,” he stammers, waiting for me to release the tight hold on his jaw. He heads into the corner.

“Arms behind your head, Cadet!” I snap, watching with pleasure as he snaps to obey. “I want that nose pressed up in the corner and your legs spread.”

He leans forward, nose to the wall, leaving his gorgeous, burning ass and thighs on display. He looks delicious and vulnerable. I return the cane to its rightful place and return to my desk, smiling about the incriminating note and enjoying the pleasant, heavy sensation in my groin. I add it and the referral to his file after adding the punishment details and my signature to the paperwork. The rest of my paperwork isn’t easy, however. Having a gorgeous, naked cadet on display is distracting. I manage to give him over five minutes of corner time which ultimately leads to my final amazing idea.

“Cadet Strife,” I say, watching his whole body flinch as I address his backside. The fleshiest parts of his ass have bruised to deep purple, and the straight red lines running horizontally across his gorgeous backside and thighs stand out even more. “As far as touching yourself during a punishment, perhaps another lesson is in order. Your ass is already quite bruised, so I will try something else. Turn around and face me.”

He obeys, carefully keeping his arms locked behind his head. He doesn’t meet my gaze, looking just over my shoulder at the wall behind my head. His erection has calmed down slightly, but he’s well aware of his body’s response.

“Since you’re so eager to touch yourself, I’d like to watch you do it.”

“Sir?” He asks, completely horrified when he realizes what I mean. He does not move his arms, however.

“At Shinra, we believe that natural consequences should be part of any discipline. Being so eager, I’m sure you’d agree this is an appropriate punishment.”

“Please, sir, y-you don’t mean my...”

“Indeed I do, Cloud. _Touch_ yourself. Take care of the side effect of your punishment.”

“Here, sir?” The shame in his cheeks brightens the blue of his eyes.

I nod slowly.

“Now. And don’t make a mess on my floor.”

Leaning back in my chair, I relax with my feet on the desk. The blonde complies with my order, carefully at first, lowering his hands from behind his head and stroking his slightly softened cock. The erection springs back to life immediately upon contact, and he releases a soft sound of surprise at the sensation.

Watching the gorgeous boy carefully jerk himself off—while completely naked, soundly punished, in my office—sends an unbearable amount of blood to my dick. I ignore it, stashing the image away for later, watching with fascination as he gets into the task at hand.

“Open your eyes, Cadet,” I interrupt him. “I want to see your face.”

“S-sir...”

“Did you enjoy spankings so much? I don't mind spanking you at all. We can add to it and _then_ you will comply, _or_ you can simply obey now. Which do you prefer?”

He meets my gaze, blue eyes shining with fresh tears. But he moves his hands—both of them—one on his cock, fisting it roughly, and the other cupping his balls. I can tell he is in a hurry—just to get the humiliation over with. But I’m enjoying the sight more than I'd admit.

The beginnings of his six-pack flex with each stroke, and the soft sighs falling from his mouth switch quickly to moans. His hand twists up slightly when he reaches the head of his lovely, engorged cock, and my mind wonders how his small hands might feel on my cock, throbbing beneath my tight leather pants.

Fresh beads of sweat pour down his forehead as he works himself to climax. From my perspective, I can see when his heavy balls tense up suddenly, just before he lets out an indulgent cry. I’m pleased to see him catch his release in his hand without letting a drop fall on the floor.

He is exhausted, leaning back against the wall for a moment—then yelping when the cool surface comes in contact with his bruised and welted bottom. It’s adorable!

“Good boy, Cloud,” I purr softly, moving my feet from my desk. “I’d like you to spend the rest of your day thinking about your actions.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he stammers, his voice much more exhausted and compliant than it has been since he got to my office. He takes a step toward the chair where his uniform is neatly folded, and I hold up my hand.

“You haven’t been dismissed, Cadet.”

“Sir?” The blush in his cheeks appears again.

“Turn around and drop to your knees in the corner,” I order. “You’ll be doing your thinking in my office. I find humiliation often does the trick with these sorts of lessons.”

I pretend not to hear the irritated, embarrassed sigh from his soft red lips. I’d love to continue the session, but when he turns around lifted up on his knees, his ass is so red and looks so sore that even I don’t have the heart to continue. He obediently presses his nose to the wall.

“Arms,” I remind him, and he instantly crosses his hands behind his head, giving me the full view of his nakedness.

Of course, with that swollen, decorated ass in my direct line of sight, the amount of work I finish isn’t even _half_ of what I’d hoped. But I plan to keep him on display—for my enjoyment—and also for when Commander Rhapsodos shows up at the end of the day to bitch and ask what I’ve done to rectify the situation.

As I watch Cloud struggle to stay in position—which he attempts valiantly—I am sure Genesis will be satisfied. He's a good friend, too. It would be wrong for me not to share my hard work with a good friend.

Only once—when I get up to refill my coffee and open the door to my office, inadvertently giving my secretary a view of the poor cadet’s punished body—do I hear him utter a sound.

I think—though I’m not sure—I hear him mutter under his breath, “Gaia, Aerith. You said this would be _enjoyable_! You sadistic bitch... And _no_ , I _didn’t_ enjoy it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Holy shit—you guys are great with the comments and kudos! And Gaia, I think I love writing from a sadistic Sephiroth’s point of view more than anything!


	4. Day 3 - Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. This took a while to update because I couldn’t figure out how to plan the rest of this piece. I think I have it set. On the plus side, I have the next few chapters started and underway, so hopefully the next update will be a bit faster.
> 
> This is a trope-y, dub-con vampire fuck-or-die smut fic, which begins with a short interaction between Aerith and Cloud about that last R&R world.
> 
> CW: blood drinking, excessively used tropes, extremely dub-con. Also light bondage that I forgot to tag earlier!

“Gods damn it, Aerith,” I mutter. “You told me this would be R&R. What the actual fuck was that?” Floating in the Lifestream once again, against my better judgment, I am arguing with the planet’s avatar herself.

_Oh, relax. You’re a masochist. I saw how much you enjoyed yourself._

“A masochist? I am not! And the fuck? You were _watching_?! What about that privacy you promised me?!”

Her laugh tinkles prettily, tickling my ears though her voice is inside my head.

 _Come on. You’d never have made it as Gaia’s champion if you_ weren’t _into pain. And I know_ all _about your choice in lovers, Cloud. And I didn’t watch the whole time—but I’ll be damned if I see something that hot only to avert my eyes!_

“Aerith!” I scold, blushing furiously. Can I blush in the Lifestream? It sure feels like it! “Gaia, I’m pretty sure my ass is still bruised and welted!” It isn’t. I know I don’t have the same physical body but the memory—the sound the paddle made, the swish of the cane—gods. It was _hot_! “What the fuck was that, anyway? And that note? I'd _never_ write anything like that! Not _in_ any universe!”

 _Oh, I know. I pushed you into that universe at just the right time—after making a few minor adjustments_.

“Adjustments?” I’m slightly stunned by her admission. I’ve known Aerith for a long, long time—many years, possibly centuries—and I know she can be a schemer when she wants to be.

 _The note? It_ was _your handwriting, wasn’t it?_

I try not to growl or hiss, remembering how nice it would feel to do just that as a catboy.

_Also, you’d been in his office just three days earlier for hiding smutty manga in your textbook. I may have pushed that little incident._

“Smutty manga?!”

 _You know, published by the Silver Elite. It displayed in_ graphic _detail how the Silver General disciplines his cadets—using that paddle, for one. He knew you were into it and thought you’d gotten yourself in trouble deliberately because he didn’t spank you the first time._

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I protest. “There is not a _single_ time or universe _any_ version of me would be caught dead with porn and sharing my sex dreams during class!” Though the minute the words escape my mouth, even _I_ know that they aren’t true. I should protest the fact that she is hinting that I deliberately got myself in trouble to get spanked, but I don’t have the courage.

_I know you better than you know yourself. I certainly am willing to give you your deepest desire._

She’s giggling. I just huff my displeasure.

“Please. This next one had better be fun for me, too.”

_It will be at least as fun as last time._

Her words don’t comfort me at all.

 _Keep in mind this R &R isn’t just for you. In that world—the one you were just in—your perky little... _presence _is enough to keep Sephiroth distracted from Jenova. You did good, kiddo._

Fuck you, too, I think but don’t say. I wonder if she can hear my thoughts. If she can, she doesn't say so nor does she act offended. The area around me spins slowly as the next world approaches.

_I figure I should let you know a few... essential things about this world._

“It can’t be as weird as the catboy world,” I say.

She laughs again—which is incredibly disturbing.

_It’s not. But you’re in for something special._

“What?”

_Just—be sure to remember that this is supposed to be a different way to appease the Calamity and bring him to our side. Stay out of the sunlight and stay away from wooden stakes and silver._

“I thought you said this was going to be _fun_! That doesn’t sound relaxing at all!” It sounds like she's describing a world in which vampires exist!

_Beggars can’t be choosers. Just try to have fun._

With those words, she disappears. I open my eyes and find myself in a dark forest. The ground is lush and warm. I look up to find the beautiful full moon peeking through the canopy of trees. My stomach protests gently and then roils uncomfortably.

What is this? Am I hungry? The idea of drinking blood _should_ be disgusting... but then I think about it, and it sounds _perfect_. Warm, sweet, nourishing—I want it. My entire body craves it—almost worse than I crave sex. But no, I guess it’s about the same since my erection is standing at full attention.

Fuck. At least my ass isn’t killing me anymore. A little shiver flows down my spine when I think about it. Maybe Aerith is right. I didn’t hate it when Sephiroth spanked me. Was it because that sort of pain is so much less intense than being on the business end of the Masamune? Gods, what the fuck does that say about my tastes? Maybe I just imprinted on pain after all my near-death and death experiences.

Shake it off, Cloud, I tell myself, as I move through the forest. I’m thrilled to find I can move silently if I want to. I mean, I’d even give Vincent a run for his money—it’s _that_ quiet.

As I make my way through the trees, getting used to how silent I am and how clearly I can see in the dark, I’m astounded by the fresh smells flooding my senses. It’s overwhelming—all the forest teeming with life—and one scent is particularly sweet. It feels familiar, but I can’t place it. So I follow it.

After walking for about ten minutes, realizing with some degree of discomfort that I _know_ this place, I know this forest, I’ve been here for a few days. My nose twitches. Saliva pools in my mouth and I turn my head, looking around me. The increased ability to understand and recognize scent is new, probably unique to this vampire body. But in any case, I’ll use it, because that smell is utterly enticing. It feels warm and alive, sweet and fresh.

I follow my nose to a small open area, seeing a small campsite. Ah. It must be a person. Perhaps it’s time for me to eat. This must be why I’m here. I don’t see anyone sleeping or wandering around, so I approach, using my quiet footsteps and newly acquired stealth, trying to locate the source of that delicious smell.

A sudden hard blow to the back of my head knocks me unconscious.

* * *

I wake in a strange room. It’s still dark—thankfully. I know instinctively that sunlight will set me on fire. There are no windows, either, but that wonderful scent I smelled earlier covers everything. The floors are bare hardwood, a little dusty and worn. A cabin, maybe? I try to sit up, feeling an intense burning on my wrists and ankles, rendering me completely immobile.

I look down at my body to find slim silver chains wrapped around my limbs. They pin me in place, acting as extremely heavy shackles that I cannot budge and burning the skin wherever they touch. It’s more painful than a Mako shower. I groan softly, trying to escape the bonds, and a soft chuckle sounds in my ears.

Twisting my head toward the sound, I realize several things simultaneously. First, I have no idea where I am. Second, I’m completely restrained and helpless. Third, I recognize the owner of the laughing voice. Fourth, I’m pretty sure he’s the source of that wonderful, mouthwatering scent. Fifth, I can’t see who it is since he’s just out of my line of sight. But there’s no _way_ I don’t recognize his voice.

 _Sephiroth_.

“You’ve been stalking me for the past three days, little demon. You must be feeling rather desperate,” his familiar voice purrs.

I struggle under the silver for a moment, hoping I can grin and bear the burning heaviness that is holding me down for long enough to escape. It’s futile. Sephiroth speaks again.

“After finally laying eyes on you, you’re not what I expected.”

The arrogance in his tone is infuriating! Irritated and unable to control myself because of the pain and frustration, I press my lips together. Seriously. If Aerith thinks I enjoy pain to _this_ extent, I’m in deep shit.

“I expected an old, haggard, vicious vampire.”

Of course, I can’t meet his gaze since he isn’t within my line of sight. Somehow, I know I need to meet his eyes. Part of me instinctually understands I have the power to influence him.

“Instead, I find the most lovely, fetching, youthful creature I have ever seen.”

My heart does a funny flip at the compliment—and _damn_ _it_ , my ass tingles slightly as if it physically remembers the pain from that cane. Gods—that’s fucked up! This body can’t _possibly_ remember things from another world! It’s all in my head.

“And a hungry one, at that. Am I mistaken?”

A soft rumbling rattles my chest. Sephiroth simply chuckles at the sound.

“You can’t hide it—I hear you purring. And so I have a proposition for you.”

I still don’t speak.

“Do you have a name?”

I don’t respond.

“You’ve earned yourself a reputation in Nibelheim, you know. They call you the Incubus of Mt. Nibel. Tell me your name.”

“I’m Cloud,” I reply a little petulantly after a few minutes of silence. To my surprise, he approaches and grabs my chin. My heart lurches, thrilled that I will be able to exert some control with my gaze.

“Cloud,” he repeats, rolling my name on his tongue and increasing the fluttering in my body. “You have such a pretty voice, too. I’m Sephiroth.”

He forces eye contact—and I _know_ I can hypnotize him. I pour all my energy into getting him to set me free and let me feed. A soft, buzzing sensation fills my mind when I open my mouth, making my tongue tingle.

“Please,” I murmur. “Get this silver off me and let me go.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Sephiroth smirks down at me. “Really, little vampire, you need to work on your technique. It seems my friends were right about you.”

Friends? Does he have friends in this world? It seems odd to me. I mean—in my original world I know he and Zack were _friendly_ , but I don’t know he ever thought of Zack as a _friend_.

“Right about what?”

“I’ll get to that in a bit. Perhaps if you answer my questions, I will make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” I sigh softly, disappointed but unsurprised that my hypnosis was unsuccessful.

“Answer my questions first, and I’ll answer yours. First, why don’t you finish off your victims?”

I have _no_ idea. What kind of vampire _wouldn’t_ kill his victims? Well, besides _me_ as a vampire. I can’t imagine a universe in which I’d be able to kill humans—even if it were for my survival.

“You leave them in a quite a state, little monster.”

I flinch uncertainly when his voice is so much softer than it was a few minutes ago. His scent is so nice—so tempting—the soft touch of fingers combing through my hair.

“I...” I don’t know how to answer this, so I do my best. “I’m not trying to kill anyone. I don’t think humans should have to die so I can eat. I restrain myself and take just what is needed.”

“And your victims experience pleasure when you suck their blood?”

“Um,” I start, hesitant again, “I’m not sure.”

“Oh?” He sounds doubtful.

“Perhaps,” I add the concession, but I don’t know for sure. Aerith could have given me more information. “So what’s your proposition, then? Please tell me it involves removing these chains.”

He chuckles softly, stroking my jaw with his fingers. It’s a little weird how he is touching me. I’m unsure if I feel threatened or aroused.

 _Aroused_? Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?!

“I didn’t expect you to be quite so... _adorable_.” He shuffles the chains pinning me to the floor, allowing me to move enough to meet the glowing emerald gaze without his assistance, but he still doesn’t release my chin. His pupils are dilated to wide ovals.

“What do you want from me?”

“Mmm,” he hums as his lips curl up to a slight smirk. “Perhaps I ought to ask you the same question.”

“I’m hungry,” I say, unable to stop myself. Damn it—I need to get a grip. Concentrating, I stare at his eyes, locking on to what I imagine in his soul behind them, using my instinctual powers of hypnosis. “Let me drink from you.”

“Will you look at that?” He murmurs, still holding my chin. “I’d heard rumors of a vampire’s ability to hypnotize. I’ve never seen it before. Your eyes become slit like mine. A shame it's so ineffective.”

To my utter shock, he brings his face close and drops a single kiss on my nose. I have to struggle not to snap my teeth at him. His scent overwhelms me now—like the forest after a summer rain. It sends a burst of arousal to my hips. Licking my lips, that strange growl emanating from my body increases in volume.

“And that _purr_. How sweet.” He drops a second kiss on my forehead. It’s tender and intimate. He pulls me up to sit, and I wince when the silver moves against my skin.

“Please,” I whisper, closing my eyes and swallowing a mouthful of saliva. My stomach gurgles, adding to the soft purr emanating from my chest. I’m _starving_. I need to eat!

“I’m actually here to take care of you.”

My chin jerks abruptly, and my eyes open. I glance around the room and a sickening feeling sinks into my gut. In addition to a simple bed and dresser, the Masamune rests on the floor on the other side of the tall, silver-haired man crouching in front of me. I am unarmed—except for my fangs, I suppose—but it isn’t the monster blade that frightens me as much as the wooden stake on its other side.

“You’ve been terrorizing Nibelheim. They’ve hired me to eliminate you. I’m a hunter of your kind.”

I notice now when I look at Sephiroth’s face that he is much younger than I remember seeing him. He looks like a younger version of the man I admired—maybe nineteen? He's quite cute. And gods, I need to stop!

“Also, I took the mission on a dare.”

“A dare?” I echo, suspiciously.

“A friend of mine suggested you would be an excellent candidate to... sample.”

“Sample?” What the fuck?

“As you don’t kill your victims.” As though that explains anything. “So I have a deal for you.”

“Anything. Just get this chain off me.”

He huffs a laugh.

“I usually stake my bounties. I’ve never captured one of your kind alive before. It seems silver is quite effective.”

At the word “stake,” an unpleasant fear creeps down my spine like ice.

“What the fuck do you want?” Strange disappointment flows through me, mixing with fear. It’s a little belated, I guess, considering I realized hypnosis wouldn’t work on him earlier.

“I’ve heard rumors that sex with a vampire is the best kind.”

Oh. Well, he’s nothing if not direct.

“I’m _not_ going to fuck you,” I insist, trying to turn away, but I’m trapped between the silver and the firm grip on my chin.

“Don’t misunderstand. That wasn’t my offer. I was planning to fuck _you_.”

I glare up at him now, meeting his eyes with the boldest look I can muster. It’s hard since that crazy hunger is thrumming throughout my body.

“That’s _ridiculous_ ,” I retort. “What makes you think I’m even _interested_?” I avert my eyes so as not to give away anything in my expression. I’m a terrible liar. I confess, after that prep school incident, I can’t stop thinking about Sephiroth sexually.

“In exchange for a small taste of my blood,” he adds.

What? This can’t be happening. But at the mere mention of blood—his fragrant, summer-rain-refreshing blood—my body starts to react physically. Arousal floods my hips and my heart starts to race.

“You will let me drink your blood if I let you fuck me?” I cannot believe I’m considering the offer. Something is terribly wrong with me. “How do you know I won’t drain you?”

“I guess I’ll have to trust you,” he offers casually, then his smile widens. “Of course, I have backup if necessary.”

Gesturing with an open hand, he waves in the direction of the Masamune and the wooden stake. Though he has killed me in many, many timelines and worlds, each time is still incredibly painful. I have never lost my will to live and am never anxious to escape to the Lifestream. So against my better judgment, I consider the offer. It seems my choice is either to die now, or feed and then let him fuck me. Seems the answer is clear. 

“All right,” I agree. His eyebrows raise.

“Is that right?”

“How do you want to do this?”

“I was thinking I’d feed you first,” he says. “That should relax you, shouldn’t it? Make you easier to handle?”

“Please,” I beg—unable to stop myself. “And the chains?”

“Well. I don’t trust you _that_ much.” With a sigh, he scoops me up off the floor, dragging the chains with me, and moves me to the bed. He lays me down carefully, pulling the chain off my ankles and raising my arms over my head, arranging the silver around my wrists to lie across them. I’m effectively pinned in place. He leans off the bed to grab the stake, holding it over my heart and pressing it lightly against my shirt. My breath catches in fear—another instinct for this body, I presume. I wonder if this is such a good idea.

Fuck it. If he’s not going to spank me, I might as well indulge. I’ve never actually wanted to taste anyone’s blood this much. It’s a crazy, unfamiliar feeling. The soft purring sound is combined with a desperate whimper and with shame, I realize it’s me. A flush burns my cheeks and the tips of my ears, and I try to look away. His emerald cat-like eyes pin me to the bed as easily as the silver chain.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he whispers, moving closer to me and keeping the stake pressed against my shirt. “I’ve killed countless of your kind and will not hesitate should you step out of line.”

Soft silver hair drapes over my body, tickling my neck as he pulls himself closer to me. I want to reach out and tilt his head, angling it up so I have better access to the artery throbbing in his neck, but I can’t because of the silver. My mouth waters and an unearthly whine slips from between my lips. My muscles tense when he lowers his neck closer to my mouth—gods, he smells _delicious_! Even trusting me this much sends a wave of emotion through my body.

A _human_ is trusting me. A human is _allowing_ me to feed. A human is _offering_ me his blood for nourishment.

The purr in my chest deepens to a growl as I part my lips, licking against the side of his neck. He tastes like the sweetest fruit I can imagine, and I long for him with my entire being. A gasp spills from his lips as I press my fangs against his sweet-tasting skin. I lick his neck a few more times, knowing this will numb the pain of the bite, before slowly sinking in my fangs.

He starts, dropping his hands to my shoulders and holding them against the mattress, but he doesn’t pull away. The first few drops of blood cover my tongue with a mixture of fresh and sweet. I’ve never tasted anything so satisfying in any life, in any world. The throb of his pulse beneath his skin is mesmerizing, and I allow myself to lightly suck the wound and lap at it with my tongue.

He lowers his body closer to me, dropping the stake next to me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He feels so amazingly powerful—and weirdly safe, even though I should be at least a _little_ concerned. Swallowing his blood loudly, I make sure to clean up each drop so as not to waste it.

The effect his blood has on my body is extraordinary. It fills me with the sweetest satisfaction I have ever known—almost like the afterglow of an intense orgasm. It sends a pleasant buzz that approaches a chemical high through my body, and I relax completely—except for my lips and tongue. I don’t even feel the pain of the silver singeing my wrists anymore—and my growl softens to a purr once more.

My vision blurs around the edges and the blood rushes to my lower half. And that’s when I notice his erection pressing against my thigh. Part of me understands that it is as arousing to have a vampire suck your blood as it is for a vampire to feed, and I’m making it as pleasurable as I can, enjoying his reaction.

His eyes jerk open, glowing green in the darkness. I take it as a sign to pull back. I remove my fangs, mindful not to tear his skin, trailing my tongue across the bite mark on his neck, soothing and calming, careful not to spill a drop. He is so delicious. I wonder if all vampire hunters taste so good.

When he pulls away, I relax onto the mattress completely. My arms are still pinned in place—but even when he removes the chain, I don’t have the energy to move. I feel relaxed and sleepy—and horrifyingly horny.

“It’s pleasurable for you, too,” he murmurs, examining my face carefully, stroking my cheek down to my jaw and throat. I don’t miss it when his eyes travel to the bulge in my pants. “Gods—that such a beautiful creature could be so deadly...”

Skilled fingers move to my shirt—and I don’t register him unbuttoning it. Nor do I notice—in my hazy relaxed daze—when my boots are pulled off, my socks stripped, my pants unbuckled and unzipped. I barely even notice when his hands skate down my naked body, caressing my skin as he strips me, except for the melting feeling of afterglow.

“You’re much warmer now. Your skin felt cold to the touch, even during the balmy summer evening,” he says. “You must have been starving.”

His fingers pinch my right nipple, and I jump, though not quite coming out of the lingering, pleasured haze. When he squeezes it between his fingers and lowers his lips to mine, my cock stiffens even more. His scent overpowers me—and I soften my jaw and lips, letting him kiss me as he likes. I don’t resist when he trails his lips down my jaw and neck, across my collarbone, and then down to my left nipple, which he sucks into his mouth and nips with his teeth.

A soft cry escapes my lips, and Sephiroth pulls up to look at me, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“Sensitive,” he remarks, before kissing my nipple again and giving me another gentle bite.

He has pulled off his shirt, his body warm and firm when he pushes up against me. He feels alive and breathing and wonderful—and I want to feel _more_ of him.

“Please...”

It takes a moment to register that the soft word came out of me. My cheeks heat up again, and I avert my gaze.

“You’re doing well, puppet. Stay relaxed.”

His hand glides down my belly, making me arch against the bed. I can’t tell if I’m trying to get away or get closer—and I don’t really care. I want to touch him more. I’m very slow, still dazed and sated from the wonderful taste of his blood, but I reach out my hands and comb them through his hair. Another soft sound escapes my mouth when his fingers wrap around my erection, caressing me gently.

Pleasure and lust course through my veins and I can’t suppress the sounds escaping my mouth. I am embarrassingly loud—but I can’t help it, and I’m embarrassed.

“You're so shy. You’re such a good, responsive boy.” The way the words sink into my ears feels like a physical touch. I _love_ —

Wait a second. What is _happening_ here? I blink several times, trying to blink away the daze. What was I about to think? This is my archenemy, my nemesis. Why did _that_ particular word come to mind?

“Relax,” he reminds me, continuing to stroke my cock and letting his other hand slip behind my waist and caress my buttocks, his fingers sliding down my lower spine and between my cheeks. I feel a slight damp chill on his fingers as he slowly teases my entrance.

“Um, hmmm...” My protest falls away the moment I open my mouth, melting into an indulgent sigh with the hypnotic movement of his fingers.

He kisses the juncture between my neck and shoulder, then back up my throat to meet my lips. He tastes so good—and I am enjoying this way too much. But it’s not like I can stop at this point. My body takes over when my hands slide down his chest to the button on his leather pants. What am I doing?

I don’t wait. Instead, I pop the button, despite my internal argument about why this is _not_ a good idea. But apparently, having sex after (or during) drinking blood is an instinct for vampires, and I’m taken by surprise by my elevated libido. Eventually, I remember Aerith’s words—telling me to _enjoy_ myself—and I relax and go with the flow.

Even when he sinks a second finger inside the tight passage of my body, I don’t flinch. My body relaxes as though it expects this intrusion. I _want_ this. I want to connect with him. And I am giving as many kisses as he is, meeting his caresses with my own as I struggle to peel the tight leather off his hips.

We take a brief break so he can pull off his pants. My heart throbs in my chest as I watch him—noticing there’s no underwear beneath those leather pants—and the thought crosses my mind. Does he fight commando? Like... every time we met in battle, was there only a layer of leather between me and that monstrous cock?

He’s gorgeous naked—possibly even hotter completely bare than he is with all that gorgeous pale skin accented with slinky black leather. My body shudders and my breath quivers, and I reach out to touch his heavy erection. He gets back to stretching me open, and I stay relaxed.

After a few more minutes, he pulls three fingers out of me and drags me to the edge of the mattress. He stands up between my legs and gently lifts my legs over his shoulders. Part of me wants him to just hold me down and fuck me till I can’t breathe and I’m startled when he speaks.

“Be patient, pretty creature,” he murmurs, an unfamiliar warm smile gracing his lips.

Shit—did I just speak my thoughts out loud? How embarrassing! But I hardly have time to worry about it when I feel him hot and hard against my entrance. When he pushes inside me, a soft keen escapes my lips—one reminiscent of pain, but it doesn’t quite hurt. My body is waiting for this, wanting this, craving this—and that makes no sense to me. However, I am not going to be able to resist, and I don’t.

He seems to notice my discomfort and he resumes lavishing attention on my cock, sending a fresh burst of lust through my body.

“Relax,” he reminds me. “You’re gorgeous like this.”

I want to kiss him, but he’s so far away. The way he is staring down at me—watching my chest move, watching his cock sink inside my body, watching me slowly submit to whatever he does—it’s unnerving. It makes me feel like a puppet on a string. I can’t seem to push the thought from my mind. And then suddenly, he hits my prostate, and all my thoughts dissolve into pleasure.

Gasping for breath and even less able to still my voice, I enjoy the sensations of him stimulating me from the front and inside. My purr deepens as he quickens his pace. I rock my hips, flexing my stomach and back muscles to meet him, my insides squeezing him as he pulls back. The soft rumbling in my chest is forced out rhythmically as he thrusts harder, now deliberately hitting my sweet spot with every thrust.

It becomes overwhelming all at once—that sweet tingling in my cock increasing with each thrust—and my body quivers. I must be obvious about it, too, because he stops all movement briefly—tightening his grip around my cock at the base, making me cry out in frustration.

“Wait for me, pretty little devil.”

I have no choice, though I hook my ankles behind his neck, meeting those emerald eyes with a melting gaze of my own. I flash my fangs at him, and he smiles back at me. When he starts moving again, he releases my cock and changes his angle to tease my sweet spot every other thrust.

It’s more than enough to make the interrupted orgasm build up once again quickly. Soon, my hips rock back into him as if I can’t get enough. The thought that he is watching me as I slowly come undone—that he can see my expression and respond to it—should be embarrassing. But it isn’t. This feels _natural_ —like this is where I belong—and my chest fills with warmth.

The second time I’m about to release, he’s right there with me. A wave of impossible heat crashes through my body and melts into sizzling pleasure, shooting up my spine, into my limbs, and even makes my lips and nose tingle. When my cock finally spills its release in thick ribbons of cum across my stomach, my heart clenches, tight and painful, and a thought appears in my mind.

_He is mine._

It brings tears to my eyes as I cry out my pleasure, begging for _more_ , for _harder_ , for _faster_. I ignore the damp on my cheeks and watch his face as it melts into ecstasy. He speeds up during his climax and then spills hot inside me. His cum fills me, and my body does something surprising—absorbing it eagerly like I did his blood. It satisfies me in something close to a second climax, leaving me utterly bewildered and overwhelmed as he rides out his orgasm in slowing thrusts.

I am gasping for air—having lost the ability to think and possibly having forgotten to breathe—as a heavenly haze covers my mind once again. My eyesight dims and fades to gray, but in a soothing calm, as though I’m drifting into an altered state.

“Cloud.”

The low voice rumbles but I don’t open my eyes. He slowly pulls out of me, then cups my chin in his hand before kissing me and kissing away my tears. I return the kiss lazily, unable to move on my own volition as though paralyzed.

Completely relaxed in this indulgent, gluttonous afterglow, I don’t resist at all when he rearranges my body on the mattress, crawling behind me and pulling my back to his chest. He presses as much of his body as he can against me, his body like a furnace and making me relax even more.

I hum, soft and content, eager to drift off to sleep. I do just that, enjoying the fingers caressing my hair and the soft, sweet breath on my ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to my long-time readers if this scenario looks slightly familiar. Yes, I’ve written something like this before for another pairing. And yes, in this universe, Vampire Cloud can live off blood and other bodily fluids. (Eeew?) ;)


	5. Day 4 - Horrible Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the movie The Secretary, Cloud wakes in a world close to his original, only he is working as a secretary for the General, and neither is having a good day. Seph “fixes” the work issues with a brief attitude adjustment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, Seph and Cloud have an arrangement (including safe words) in this world, but because Cloud is dropped into it where he is, he doesn’t know this. It makes his experience pretty uncomfortable—at first, anyway.

The next world in which I wake is at least somewhat familiar. I recognize the building I’m in as Shinra Headquarters. I am sitting at a secretary’s desk with a checklist in front of me and a pencil in my hand. Peering out the window, I must be on an upper floor. There’s a typewriter, a computer, and an intimidating phone arranged neatly on the desk with other office supplies, as well as two coffee cups.

 _Weird_ , I think.

I jump when the phone buzzes. The button lighting up next to it is marked “Intercom.” It rings several times before I pick it up.

“Strife,” I say.

There’s a brief silence before an all-too-familiar voice speaks into my ear.

“Private Strife,” Sephiroth purrs. “What have you been doing out there that distracts you from picking up the intercom on the first ring?”

“General, s-sir,” I reply, trying not to stammer.

“Where is my coffee? Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

“No, sir.” Then the intercom clicks off.

Gods, it looks like he’s an asshole in this universe as well. I don’t know which mug is his, either. One has a chocobo on it, so I guess it’s mine. I take both in search of coffee.

I stand up and wander into the hallway—at least I’m set up in a small anteroom to his office and it has a window. But I have no idea how the Silver Demon takes his coffee, nor do I know where to find it. So I follow the sound of tinkling laughter and gossip.

Down the hall, a few secretaries coming and going are coming out of a room. I’m dressed in a trooper uniform without the armor and protective gear, so this must be where I am stationed. I head into the break room and fix two cups of coffee. I drink mine black, and I assume the General does, too. He’s the most powerful man in the world. He’d never weaken the drink with cream and sugar, would he? I can’t imagine.

Careful not to spill, I avoid the looks of the other secretaries—especially the older women who look at me with pity. A motherly type rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me a gentle squeeze.

“He’s just had a long week, Cloud. He’ll cheer up. You always manage to cheer him up by the end of the day.”

“We’re glad you’re here, honey,” another woman coos. I give them a nod before returning to my office. I leave my mug on the desk and knock twice on the door to the larger office. Sephiroth tells me to enter.

When I enter, I’m surprised it’s a mess. The General is usually fastidious. I’ve never seen him surrounded by disorder—well, aside from destruction caused by his own hands, such as broken cities and ruined buildings. He glares up sharply from his desk, and I lower my gaze submissively—I guess on instinct?

“Where have you been, Private? You should be used to your position by now. This is what, the end of your third week?”

“I apologize, sir.”

He makes an odd gesture with his hand, and it takes a moment to realize he wants his coffee. I set the mug down on his desk.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“ _Strife_.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but I jerk my chin up and straighten my back just the same.

“Yes, sir?”

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

“N-no, sir?”

“You know I take my coffee with extra cream and sugar. You learned that lesson on your first day. What is the meaning of this?”

“Um—I’m s-so sorry, sir. I’ll, um, be right back—”

“You haven’t been dismissed, Private.”

I turn around and stand before him, my eyes facing forward refusing to meet his gaze. He makes me wait a minute.

“Dismissed.”

I grab the mug and return to the break room, biting back irritation. I dump the cooling black coffee in the sink and fix a fresh cup, adding three heaping teaspoons of sugar and a buttload of cream, muttering disrespectfully under my breath. Thank the goddess the room has cleared out. Hurrying back, I return to his office and knock, waiting for admittance.

“Sir,” I say, presenting the coffee as an offering. “May I get you anything else, sir?”

He sighs as if exasperated and looks up at me.

“Yes. Would you please give me your job description?”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Your _job descriptio_ n, Private Strife. What is your current assignment? For what purpose does Shinra pay you?”

“Oh, um,” I pause for a second, skimming my brain for the correct answer. “I’m your secretary, sir.”

“And what do your duties entail?”

“Answering the phone, arranging your schedule,” I start, unsure he isn’t asking a rhetorical question. “Fetching your coffee, sir.”

“Do you find the job difficult or particularly demanding, Strife?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you agree that the position provides you with an easy paycheck when compared to, say, life in the infantry?”

“Of course, sir,” I say, even more uncertain.

“Would you include typing correspondence in your job description?”

“Oh, um, yes, sir.”

“Then would you please explain this letter?”

“Sir?”

Sephiroth slides a letter across his desk, turning it toward me so I can read it. I see three words circled in thick red marker—each of the three words is misspelled.

“This letter has three errors in it.” His voice remains smooth and calm, but successfully indicates his extreme displeasure just the same.

“Yes, sir,” I agree, keeping my eyes on the letter.

“We’ve been over this, Strife. You know very well this isn’t the first time we’ve gone over your job requirements, is it.” He doesn’t exactly ask a question, but he’s waiting for me to confirm nevertheless.

“No, sir. I, um, I apologize, sir.” Of course, I have no memory of having had any similar conversations. I have only just arrived in this world, after all.

“I don’t want an apology, Private. Do you know how this makes me look to the people who receive these letters?”

“I don’t, sir.”

“You are supposed to represent the General of Shinra, SOLDIER First Class. What would you think if you were the recipient of one of these letters?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, would you have a _good_ impression? An impression of confidence and _competence_?” His voice remains calm but in some ways, that’s even more frightening than an audibly angry tone.

“Um, no, sir.”

“Private Cloud Strife,” he says, rolling my name off his tongue as though he is tasting it and lowering his voice to a purr, “do you believe you earned the right to represent me however you see fit in this comfortable position?”

“No, sir!” I reply enthusiastically. “I’m very sorry for the mistake.”

“Type it again and get it right. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Gods _damn_ it, if he were _that_ concerned with typos, why can’t I type up correspondence on the computer? It would catch any mistakes, I think bitterly as I leave the office. I am very careful to close the door silently behind me.

Sitting down at the desk, huffing, I take a sip of my coffee and try to relax. Not wanting to irritate the Silver Demon further, I retype the letter carefully. I field several calls, taking several messages, pleased with my ability to multitask. I’ve never been a secretary before, after all. As soon as I’m finished, I take the letter and the messages, then knock on the door, waiting for his response.

“Sir,” I say, trying not to be intimidated but unable to help it when that green gaze pierces me. “The letter, retyped, and several messages.”

“Thank you, Private.”

“Would you like another cup of coffee?”

“Please. A little less sugar this time.” He peers up at me and calls my name. “Cloud.”

“Sir?”

“Did you fail to get enough rest last night? There is something off about your performance today.” He gives me a look I don't quite recognize. Suspicion, maybe?

“I’m fine, sir. I apologize.” I pick up the mug and nearly walk out of the office but realize he hasn’t dismissed me in the nick of time. He caught my mistake and makes me wait for a full minute. (I'm pretty sure he counts off 60 seconds in his head, the obsessive bastard.)

“Dismissed.”

I refill his mug and add only two heaping spoons of sugar with cream and return it to his office, irritated that I have to wait to be dismissed each time. I expect him to wave me away, but he doesn’t.

“You’ve failed again, I see.”

“Sir?” I ask, somewhat surprised.

He pushes the newly typed letter across his desk once again, having circled two different typos in red pen. _Fuck_.

“You aren’t doing this on purpose, are you?”

“Doing what, sir?”

“Failing to do your non-demanding job, even by infantry standards, with the intent to antagonize your boss.”

My heart flutters fearfully in my chest.

“Sir—”

“It’s becoming quite clear to me how you managed to fail the SOLDIER exam _twice_ now. Private Strife, you do realize that many young men would appreciate your position enough to make sure to do an exemplary job?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice quiet and my gaze on the floor.

“All you have to do is type and answer phones. Is that beyond your abilities?”

“Sir—”

“Strife, you may have an adorable northern accent, but that is _not_ enough to get by in this position. Please retype the letter and do it _right_ this time. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” I try not to groan as I leave the office.

I flop down at my desk after the door closes, slamming the letter (and my fist) onto the table. The intercom rings again immediately, making me jump.

“Yes, General?”

“ _Cloud_.” There’s a gentle pause before he speaks again. I hold my breath. “You _are_ aware I have sensitive hearing.”

I swallow but don’t respond.

“ _Strife_.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Watch your attitude. It’s unprofessional.”

“I-I’m s-so—”

 _Click_.

“Sorry, sir,” I finish to the open air. He can probably hear it even without the intercom. I take four deep breaths to calm the anger in my chest and then get to retyping that damned letter for the third time today.

How is _this_ my life?

The moment I finish, I bring it back into the office, forgetting to knock on the door. When I open it, the silver-haired man sends me the most offended glance I’ve ever received.

“ _Cloud_. Is there an emergency?” Somehow I know I am being scolded, even in that calm tone.

“Um, n-no, sir.”

“Why did you ignore protocol?”

“I-i, um, I j-just forgot?” I’m hesitant in my answer and an icy fear creeps down my spine. I cannot figure out why I'm getting so antsy around the General in this world. Masamune is hanging on the wall behind his desk, _not_ pointed at my throat.

“Try again, Cloud.”

My cheeks are flushed with a mix of rage and embarrassment, but I back out of the office and close the door. Taking a few deep breaths, I knock twice. And then I wait for at least _90 seconds_ before he answers.

This is utterly _infuriating_!

“Enter,” he says softly from behind the door.

“I apologize for the interruption, sir,” I say. “The letter, retyped.”

“Dismissed.”

“Sir.”

He glances up at me, annoyed. He doesn’t say anything, so I dare to open my mouth.

“Aren’t you going to proofread it? Sir?”

“You are _dismissed_ , Private.”

I leave the office, working really hard not to slam the door in his face. And the moment my butt reaches the chair—and I deliberately sit down gently so as not to make any noise or indicate my frustration—the intercom buzzes _again_. I pick it up with a jerk, my eye twitching in irritation.

“Sir.”

“Fetch me a fresh cup of coffee, Strife.”

 _Ugh_! I _hate_ this.

I stand up from my chair, knock on his door twice, and am left waiting for another minute. I know he is sitting there, getting off on annoying me while he is counting to 60. I had _no_ idea the General was _this_ petty! But I handle it well and don’t lose my temper. It might even be sort of amusing in another context or if his pettiness weren't currently directed toward me.

“Enter.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say. “May I?” I’m smart enough to ask before taking his mug. Then, I’m left standing there for another minute while he pages through the forms on his desk. Finally, he nods and waves me off.

The door closes just a little too hard behind me on the way out. I wince when I hear it slam—and I hear a sharp bark from behind it.

“ _Private_ Cloud Strife.”

Gods—a rookie mistake, and an obvious example of me letting my temper run away with me. Dread building in my stomach, I open the door.

“Yes, sir? What did you—?”

“Get _in_ here, Strife, and close the door behind you.”

“B-but your coffee—”

“Get in here. _Now_.” His voice is still low and even, and it scares the living shit out of me.

I obey and close the door extra carefully behind me. I am still holding his mug in my hand.

“Explain.”

“Sir?” I ask, feigning innocence. I fiddle with the mug anxiously.

“Cloud,” he says, rolling my name on his tongue and making a blush rise in my cheeks, “do you believe that your position here was given to you, no strings attached?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you think I’m too demanding—for example, when I ask you to close the door gently because of my sensitive hearing?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Explain your actions.” He leans back in his chair, and it squeaks a little as he folds his arms across his chest. Immediately, my eyes travel to his arms and the firm, pale flesh that stands out from the black leather. Gods, he still is annoying beautiful, even as irritating as he is right now. I _hate_ this.

“The wind, sir? It must have been a draft?” I snark, still maintaining my innocence.

He barks a laugh, and I smile in relief for a moment, hoping this has resolved the situation.

“What goes on inside that spiky blonde head of yours? Hmm?” He murmurs as if to himself.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“As is apparent with your successive failures today. Well. I suppose it _is_ my job to maintain discipline in the ranks. Approach, Private Strife.”

I don’t move from my spot, as if my legs have grown roots. He leans forward and open his desk drawer. He pulls out a ruler. What the _hell_ is this? While I’m thankful he doesn’t happen to have a wooden paddle in there or a cane, I feel a repeat of the prep school incident looming.

“Cloud,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You may not have qualified for Mako injections yet, but I believe you heard me even without enhanced hearing.”

“Sir?” I try to keep the panic from my voice—unable to get the last office incident out of my mind. It’s that stupid, plain wooden 12” ruler with a metal edge that is setting me off.

“Private,” he stands up from his chair in a single smooth movement, “if I have to ask you again, you will suffer further consequences.”

“Sir—it really was _just_ the wind—and I, um, I’m _sorry_ —”

“ _Cloud_.” He cuts me off with a word, arms crossed again. The office is a large, empty, modern space, but when he stands, even with me lingering in the doorway in front of the closed door (and I have backed away several steps, ass clenched nervously) he looms over me. “I asked you to approach.”

I still can’t move, except that my hands start to tremble.

“Please, sir,” I start, but he interrupts me by taking two steps closer, grabbing my chin and jerking it up to meet his gaze.

“Hmm. You seem... _different_ today. Allow me, as your commanding officer, to help you _resolve_ your issues so we might succeed during the rest of the day.” He softens the iron grip on my jaw and strokes my throat. “Come now. It isn’t as though you haven’t done this before. And you know you’re only making it worse.”

I don’t obey. There is no _way_ I enjoy this! I do _not_ get off on pain! Oh, and _fuck you, Aerith!_

He takes the mug from my hands, watching my fingers tremble, humming softly to himself. He has a pretty voice and can keep a tune—which is a bit surprising to me as well. When he returns, he has me stretch out my arms, elbows straight, and he turns my wrists so my palms are facing up.

“Hmm,” he hums again, meeting my gaze. “Hold your hands steady. Do not move.”

A flash of anger bursts through my body—what the _hell_ does he think I am? Some errant schoolboy? But the first slap of that ruler sends burning heat up into my wrists. A soft gasp escapes my lips—and it sounds inherently sexual. I have to struggle to keep my hands from moving, but this is much easier to handle than that damned paddle, at least at first.

A second, third, and fourth blow land on my palms—stinging harshly with each one before he takes a short pause. In the few seconds I have in between the next set of blows, pain creeps into my fingernails and makes them throb. I’m unable to take my eyes off the palms of my hands—still strangely smooth, none of the callouses from holding a sword, red welts rising in the wake of the ruler. He keeps his gaze on my face.

When the next set of blows rains down, I pant with each breath, the fourth hiding a groan of pain. He pauses again for a moment, meeting my eyes as he looks up, holding the ruler in hand. The wood acts as a part of him, as natural as the Masamune, in his hand. Then he slaps my palms four more times. By the last set, I’m suppressing yelps. Finally, after a total of twelve strikes, he permits me to move.

“At ease, Private. I’ll give you a moment.”

I struggle to catch my breath and hold back tears—looking with a mix of distress and amazement at the raised red stripes on my palms. They are spaced perfectly evenly. It shouldn’t surprise me, the care he used in laying each blow evenly on my hands. Except when I consider the state of his office, it doesn't quite fit. It hurts to bend my fingers or make a fist, aching into elbows almost to my shoulders, and I worry if it will affect my ability to type. My fingers appear swollen, and my nails ache. Something close to a soft sob escapes my lips without my permission, and my chin is touched lightly.

“That was to punish your refusal to submit to my command. Now, please approach my desk as I asked earlier, and we will address your shortcomings.”

I blink slowly, ignoring the sting of tears in my eyes, and close my mouth—realizing my jaw dropped open at his next request. I don't move from my spot, though.

“Cloud, I’d suggest you make haste so my next appointment doesn’t barge in on your discipline session.” He casually looks up at the clock. “Hmm. We have five minutes before the Lieutenant General is scheduled to give his report. That might be embarrassing for you.” His voice stays calm and gentle as he continues. “ _Although_ , I can’t understand what has come over you today. Perhaps having your punishment witnessed is what you’re aiming for?”

“No, sir— _please_ , sir.” To my horror, my vision blurs suddenly and a tear spills down my cheek. It feels almost chilly against my burning skin and I must be bright pink at this point.

“Assume the position, Private Strife.” His voice, so soft and gentle, purrs into my ear and forces my obedience. “You should be familiar with it by now. Elbows and forearms on the desk.”

My body moves as if on its own, and I find myself once again bent over a desk, hands throbbing and the desk feeling cool and soothing against my palms. Thank the gods at least I’m wearing the hefty cargo pants of my uniform this time! My breath picks up and my body sweats. _Damn_ it—did I forget to put on deodorant this morning? I look straight ahead, staring at the Masamune on the wall.

“Good boy,” he says, and a wave of pleasure—actual _pleasure_!—flutters through my belly. The throbbing pain that has crept up my arms and into my fingertips buzzes inside my body, pulsing with my heartbeat. I’m mortified when my cock stiffens in my pants. His voice is much closer than it was. But as tempted as I am to turn around and see exactly where he is standing, I know I will raise his ire if I do.

Adding to my panic, he leans over my back, settling both hands on either side of my arms, pressing up behind me. The beginning of an erection presses up against my ass, and I’m more than alarmed. I lower my gaze to the gloved hands on either side of me, the ruler currently resting on the surface at his fingertips. I’m speechless as his left hand drags across the table toward the button on my pants.

“Please—sir—”

“Hush. I haven’t even begun. You can’t say I didn’t warn you. You know what happens if you hesitate, Cloud. Delayed obedience is disobedience.”

He unbuttons my cargo pants and unzips them, and I try not to notice it feels like he’s done this a thousand times. He yanks them down my hips, taking my underwear along. He pushes them down to mid-thigh and I’m exposed to the air-conditioned room. I want to squirm out of position—but I’m terrified to move. I’m scared to even _breathe_.

Soft leather caresses my bare ass (and it feels weirdly soothing), distracting me from my shame for just a moment—and then I hear a soft sound echoing in the room. My harsh breathing is punctuated with a soft, whine. I sound utterly _desperate_.

“I’d like to assure you that discipline _isn’t_ my favorite part of the job. However...” That gloved hand continues to caress my ass, stroking the juncture along my thighs, “you are quite a delicious little morsel. In your case, I don’t mind so much.”

My eyes drift closed—forcing a few more tears to drip on his desk. I cringe to think I might have ruined one of his papers, but I don’t move or resist. My chest feels heavy and my ears feel stuffed with cotton.

The warmth of his body withdraws, leaving me even more vulnerable and exposed. He strokes the smooth length of the ruler across my butt, and I clench my thighs together and flex my muscles.

“Relax, Cloud,” he murmurs—speaking in a bedroom voice. “You know it only hurts worse if you aren't relaxed. You look so much prettier relaxed, too. There. That’s _much_ better. Such a _good_ boy.”

The soft praise floats into my ears and sinks into my chest. I let my thighs open a little, finding with dismay that I am arching my butt back into his hand as if to extend the duration of his caress. When he withdraws his hand, my heart threatens to shatter like glass.

 _Smack_!

The first strike of the ruler hits the fullest part of my ass, and it trembles beneath the touch. The painful crack floods my ears before the actual sting of the slap registers. Once it registers, however, I realize this is _much_ worse than what he did to my palms, and a harsh breath escapes through my gritted teeth.

The second and third strikes follow, and I struggle to stay still and quiet, keeping my arms pinned to the table, pain sparking down my thighs. By the sixth strike, blood is pooling in my hips and my cock is close to dripping on the floor. I don’t know whether I’m more humiliated from my arousal or suffering from physical pain.

After the eighth blow, there’s a brief pause in the punishment—and my body seems to understand I still have four more strokes coming. But he stops and I use it to catch my breath. My voice has been spilling more loudly since the fifth spank, but I take a few deep breaths and struggle to relax, my breath hitching with pain.

Then the door opens, sending a cool breeze and a wave of embarrassment through my body like an additional blow.

“Seph—where’s that cute little chocobo you have manning your phone, man? I was looking forward to seeing his sweet, grumpy frown when I— _oh_.”

It’s Zack—and I do not move an inch. Humiliation floods my body from the top of my head to my feet, as exposed and childish this entire experience is. My cheeks are flushed down to my chest, and I don’t want to think about how my ass looks!

“ _Zackary_ ,” Sephiroth’s voice purrs pleased from behind me. He straightens up, moving slightly to my side to allow Zack a full view of my punished behind. I lower my mouth to my right forearm, trying hard not to sink my teeth in but unable to stop.

“Oh, um, sorry. You two seem to be in the middle of—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Private Strife call to reschedule when we’re done here.”

“Um, yeah. O-of course.” But for a few minutes, there is no movement. Zack seems to be staying right where he is, taking in the sights. “Um, take your time, Spikey.”

Gods _damn_ you, Aerith! She is _such_ a little shit! And my gods—I become even more aroused when I notice Zack's presence lingers in the room—as though I am getting off on being ogled in such a humiliating position! I let my teeth sink into my arm.

“So, I guess I’ll, um, be going.” The door squeaks on its hinges, and Zack mutters to himself. “Gods, I guess _this_ explains why his stress level has been so much lower in the past three weeks. I'm a general, too. _Fuck_. I deserve my _own_ little chocobo...”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth purrs in my ear after the door clicks shut. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop. That’s not _your_ responsibility, puppet.”

He urges my mouth away from my arm, soothing it gently with his fingers.

“Are you ready to take your remaining punishment?”

“Yes, sir,” I sob softly, tears spilling freely from my eyes.

He doesn’t wait any longer, finishing the punishment with four more strokes, landing two more on my sit spot and two on my upper thighs—those burn like a bitch, but I don’t swear. I don’t feel the need to swear, since I’m crying actual _tears_ in front of my archenemy.

The moment he stops, he drops the ruler on his desk and pulls me into his arms, murmuring sweet praises in my ears.

“You were _such_ a good boy—such a good puppet. You took your punishment beautifully. I’m so _proud_ of you.” He rubs soft circles into my lower back with one hand, letting the other ghost across the welts left from the ruler. The sudden tenderness takes me off guard, but I melt into it. “Come now.”

He moves me to the sofa, lowering me down and pressing my naked, punished ass against the fabric. I yelp—loud—at the contact but am flabbergasted when he kneels on the floor in front of me. He takes both my hands and litters my palms with kisses, sucking on my fingers as if to soothe away the pain. His tongue feels rather delicious. Of course, at this point, my ass hurts _way_ more than my hands, but seeing him on his knees, making bold, direct eye contact, pupils dilated so wide they look round, is a hotter sight than I could have ever imagined.

“How do you know exactly what I need before I even realize it myself, sweet boy?” He murmurs against my hands. He pushes my chest gently, encouraging me to relax into the couch, and moves my arms to either side of my lap. He gets even closer, yanking my trousers down enough to nuzzle the insides of my thighs, kissing, licking, nipping his way up toward my groin. “You’re a treasure.”

His long hair tickles my thighs and I swallow my tears—gulping and gasping out loud when he sinks his mouth around my cock. The sensation is bewildering and wonderful, and I thoroughly enjoy the stroking of that skillful tongue. He gently pushes both his hands between my punished behind and the couch, lifting me slightly and sending fresh waves of painful pleasure from the welts on my ass.

He hums—almost like a purr—when my cock hits the back of his throat as he swallows around me. I can hardly believe my eyes—his lips stretched wide around my dick, elegant nose brushing up against the fine golden hair at my pubic bone. His hair shimmers beautifully in the natural light, sparkling with each bob of his head. My stomach clenches and my thighs twitch, and a pleasured moan escapes my mouth. It’s an incredibly lewd sound that I can do nothing to suppress. The pleasure is too overwhelming.

And then he swallows me down again—the man has no gag reflex—and gently squeezes my cheeks. Touching my injured skin has an entirely unexpected effect on me, sending a tidal wave of pleasure into my groin. I feel like I might explode.

“ _Seph_ —oh, sir—General—ah,” I am gasping out rhythmically as he completely dominates my pleasure. I’m helpless and so on the edge, even after such a short time. “Ah—I’m going to come, sir—”

He looks up and gives me a wink, squeezing my ass almost painfully now. But all the pain melts into indulgent pleasure. Hot lust zips up my spine when an overwhelming, uncontrolled climax explodes through my body. Sephiroth doesn’t flinch—swallowing down my cum as if he’s done it a million times as pleasure numbs my body in a sweet afterglow.

I’m shaking and faint with exhaustion when I finally finish. He ever so gently lays me down on the couch, propping me up on my side. When my eyelashes flutter open, the Silver General is still on his knees, carding his fingers through my hair and wiping tears from my face. A few fresh ones spilled with my orgasm, it seems, but I can’t be bothered.

“Mmmm,” I let out a sound like a sated, purring cat, and I have no control over any part of my body.

“You did so well, kitten,” he whispers. “I’m shocked you didn’t safeword when you heard Zack outside, either.”

 _Safeword_? What is he saying? I wonder half-heartedly with a blurry, fuzzy brain. Something is pressed between my lips.

“Eat up, Cloud,” he rolls his tongue around my name—and I will never be able to hear him say my name again without thinking about what else that amazing tongue can do.

The taste of dark chocolate melts in my mouth—and it sends a fresh wave of endorphins through my body. I moan lewdly as I savor the chocolate, a sense of tenderness coming over my body.

“I’m glad we added the soundproofing,” he murmurs, leaving soft kisses on my cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “I’d hate for you to suppress your voice.”

I give another contented hum. He stands up to fetch me a glass, pouring some ice water into it. He helps me drink from a straw, wiping away a few drops that have spilled from my lips. “Let me treat your skin. Do you want a Cure, too?”

“I’m good. I like it just like this. Then I can think about it during the rest of the day—every time I sit down.”

Good _gods_ —did those words _really_ just come out of my mouth? _Fuck_. I swear I can hear Aerith giggling in the back of my mind. But I’m still too blissed out to give a shit.

“Seriously, though. I want to know how you know exactly _what_ I need _when_ I need it. No one could have a better secretary. Whatever I will do when you start your SOLDIER training in two months?”

My heart throbs in my chest—and a strange, soft feeling spills into my body (and slips out beneath my lashes, too) when I meet his easy, affectionate smile. It’s a warmth I can hardly understand—one I’m not quite sure how to handle.

When I feel the cold sensation of a soothing balm on my palms, my eyes drift closed and I fall asleep. Maybe this world wasn’t quite as horrible as I first thought...


	6. Day 5 - Kidnapped Bridegroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from Aerith’s POV. Because of where Cloud lands in the story, it reads as non-consent and pretty, um, well, rape-y. And we’re not sure by the end of it if Cloud ever really knows exactly what is going on in this ‘verse. But let Aerith have her fun.
> 
> Triggers: kidnapping, non-con bondage, somnophilia and sex with severe consent issues, non-con voyeurism.

"That was rough, babe. I mean, even for you."

My first boyfriend has always held such an innocent view of me. It makes sense, I suppose. I was young and inexperienced when we first met. But we've been together in the Lifestream for centuries now. He ought to know my preferences at this point.

"Come on, Zack. You know he gets off on it. He'd never have made it as Gaia's champion otherwise."

"Still though. Babe. It's _rough_."

"He had safewords," I point out.

"He didn't _know_ he had! Hell, the poor kid probably doesn't even know what a safeword _is_!"

"Gaia, Zack. You keep him so innocent in your mind. I know you enjoy this as much as I do, so I don't want your judgment. I need this as much as Seph does."

"What? For your fan fiction writing? Gods, is _nothing_ sacred? He's your friend, not just the planet's champion!"

"I'm the planet's avatar, Zack. I think I've earned some R&R. At least as much as Cloud and Seph have, anyway. They are _exhausting_!"

That shuts him up. Now I get on to the next task. Hopefully, Cloud will discover where his true strength lies in this world.

* * *

The blonde wakes in a luxurious room in the middle of the night. The full moon shines in through the window, littering the soft bed with silver rays of light. His instincts tickled, he senses someone else in the room, deliberately suppressing his presence and hiding in the shadows. The blonde recognizes the man without having to confirm any details, but as his natural eyesight gets used to the low moonlight, his fears are confirmed by the long silver hair, pulled into a low ponytail. The blonde sits up in a hurry, realizing that he is not enhanced in this world.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. “What do you want with me?”

“Good evening,” the silver-haired man purrs, lifting his hand to the blonde’s face. “I received your letter and decided to grant your request. But let’s do this the official way, just in case we're caught.” A spell spreads from his fingers, and the blonde notices what it is before it makes contact—Sleepel. Cloud drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Only Gaia knows how much later the blonde jerks awake, his body jostled harshly. His wrists are bound in front of him and hanging overhead, and he is facedown, draped over the lap of another rider, galloping his chocobo at high speed. He struggles to move and a gloved hand comes to rest on his nape, almost in a soothing motion. The dawn is breaking on the horizon, covering the gray darkness with warmth.

“Good morning, my sweet prince.”

Sephiroth’s low voice curls into Cloud’s ears, sending a shiver that he desperately hopes is fear down his back. _Damn_ it, Cloud. It wouldn't kill you to be more honest with your desires now and then. He tries to turn toward the sound of the familiar voice but is unable to move.

“What—?” Cloud struggles to protest, his voice hoarse and mouth and throat parched. He hates Sleep spells with a passion. They might work fine for the severely sleep-deprived, but he’s never woken from one without feeling hungover. Waking while in rapid motion agitates a queasiness he thought he’d long outgrown.

Sephiroth chuckles low, which the blonde feels more than hears, the wind rushing through his ears and hair.

“Puppet, I don’t understand your reaction. You must have expected me.”

“I don’t—”

“How could you _not_ , after sending such a letter? You watched me from afar last month when I sought a marriage arrangement with your parents. While it was wise of them not to make official introductions at that point, you found me just the same. Surely, you begged them to allow our union. Didn’t you?”

“N-no...” The blonde wracks his brain for scraps of memories that this world’s version of him might have. He doesn’t do a very good job of it, either, in my opinion. The only image is a brief one—a glimpse from the flowering garden, through picturesque windows. There’s a beautiful, tall man with flowing silver hair reaching his waist, dressed in a formal black kimono. There’s a sense that the blonde was peeking in on a discussion of which he shouldn’t have been part, and he had kept himself hidden throughout—except that the emerald green eyes had met his briefly.

“I saw you—through the throne room’s windows. I knew then I had to have you. Your letter confirmed you felt the same, and so here I am.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Cloud’s heart sinks into his stomach, fear budding like a blossom after the rain. What letter? _Remember_ , Cloud. The version of you in this timeline asked for help from this man.

“Come now, dear prince. You’re of age. Your parents put you on the market, seeking the optimal match. I originally visited you to acquiesce my council, which has been pressuring me to settle down with a partner. I’d heard rumors of your beauty and sweet nature. And I was enchanted when I first laid eyes on you. However, up close...” The buttery soft glove tenderly scratches at messy blonde locks and cups the back of Cloud’s neck. “Up close, you’re truly irresistible.”

Cloud shies away the moment he notices he’s leaning toward the touch, feeling a blush crawl into his cheeks. He struggles to relax—as much as he can while being carried on the tall man’s saddle. Gaia, Cloud. What else do you need?

“Then, of course, when I heard you’d been betrothed to the heir of Wutai, I couldn’t let that stand. Godo is an old man. He simply longs for a pretty, lithe body to warm his bed after the loss of his wife.”

“What...?”

“Pretty prince, you’re to be mine.”

A shudder shakes the blonde’s lithe form, and his captor chuckles with pleasure.

“I know you’re innocent, but even you are not this naive. Surely, your parents must have told you what to expect? Why else would you have sent me that particular piece of correspondence?”

The blonde tries to twist out of position and only manages to glare up at the silver-haired man for a moment. His blue eyes flash with a mix of anger and apprehension. Perhaps the pretty prince has more guts than he expected.

“I-i get motion sick,” he says, his voice barely audible above the sound of the wind.

“Relax,” the silver-haired man says. “Let me fix it.”

With those words, Sephiroth casts another Sleepel, watching the blonde relax completely. Smiling smugly, he strokes the blonde as he sleeps, letting his hand wander from those impossibly soft spikes down his neck and spine, admiring the curve of his perky ass, even from underneath the blanket.

For the rest of the ride, the silver warlord picks up the pace, driving his beloved chocobo to her limit. He’s simply too excited to reach his palace, too excited anticipating all the things he will do to the blonde.

* * *

Once they arrive, the blonde is still sound asleep. Sephiroth is not at all deterred, however, carrying him draped over his right shoulder while he returns to his room. He addresses the butler—a reliable man who keeps the household running smoothly and acts as his assistant.

“Please summon the priest this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I’m glad your plans worked out to your satisfaction.”

“Of course.” And then Sephiroth returns to his room with his sleeping prize.

Unsure if he’d rather his captive wake at this point, Sephiroth gently lays him on the bed—a large built-in bed, surrounded by semi-sheer silk privacy curtains and covered in luscious silver bedding. The golden hair of the captured prince stands out against the texture of the sheets. For a moment, the castle’s lord simply watches his prize sleep.

The prince is even more gorgeous than Sephiroth remembers from his first visit to Nibelheim’s palace and so much more vulnerable as his peaceful face remains guileless and relaxed, his chest moving up and down with deep breaths. Sephiroth forces himself to admire from a few feet away, just for now—taking in the pristine, virginal form of the prince with a much-sought-after hand—to perform any role the silver-haired lord would like.

The morning sun sneaks in through the large, picturesque windows of the tower’s chamber, spilling pale rays onto the floor. The lord pulls the sheer silk curtains aside, watching the shimmering light dance in the prince’s golden hair. Taking a relieved, satisfied breath, Sephiroth turns to his desk—knowing that his prize will be even lovelier when his sapphire eyes open. He can’t wait to see the prince’s reaction when he wakes.

On the desk, the prince’s desperate plea for help rests, proof of the prince’s attraction and desire for affection. In that letter, Prince Cloud begged for help—help only Sephiroth could provide.

_Take me away from this place. My parents mean to marry me off to an old man. Save me. Save me in exchange for whatever you like._

The beautiful calligraphy, even spotted with smudges from tears, indicates learning to write at a young age. Sephiroth wonders what sort of punishments were meted out to a prince of royal blood. Did his tutor stand over him as he practiced, holding a wooden ruler to rap his knuckles when his writing was uneven or unsightly? (And why does that image resonate in his soul so deeply?) Or was he so spoiled to have a whipping boy to take physical punishments in his place? Sighing, Sephiroth privately longs for such an experience. He had none—growing up in the dank dungeons of Midgar’s palace. Until he was big enough to defend himself, Professor Hojo took the liberty of beating him and physically punishing him at every chance. Now the professor is dead, boundless freedom welcomes the silver-haired heir to his kingdom. He can and will do as he likes.

The lord strips off his leather coat with efficiency and purpose. It takes only a minute to strip down to skin. For this first time at least, he plans to take the prince in the nude, if only to be able to maximize skin contact. He wants to feel every inch of that perfect form.

“Welcome to your new home,” Sephiroth murmurs, knowing his low voice won’t wake the sleeping angel. Planning ahead, the lord angles the tall dressing mirror toward the bed, so he will be able to observe the prince’s expression, regardless of their position.

He sits down next to the prince once again and works the rope from his wrists. Savoring each button, he slides his hands into to prince’s silk sleeping shirt, unsurprised to find the revealed skin silky and smooth. Not a single imperfection mars his body, perfectly pink nipples a gorgeous contrast to ivory skin. Indulging himself, the silver-haired man leans forward to lick them, nipping them gently to bring them to full attention. Sighing in delight, Sephiroth is pleased with his choice. The prince will do very nicely as his consort.

Once the shirt is stripped from the pretty prince, his new lord and master secures his wrists together above his head and attaches them to the headboard, leaving plenty of slack. Prince Cloud is still soundly sleeping, so he is careful to arrange his body in a way that won’t cause cramping or discomfort—at least not from his position, anyway. His master’s intentions are something other than sleep. I can’t wait.

Once the prince is secured, Sephiroth finally lets his fingers trail through the delicate, silky strands of fine gold below Cloud’s navel. Once he reaches the waist of his underwear, he unties them and slides them off. They are surprisingly snug around Cloud’s hips. Sephiroth smiles a little when he works them off—enjoying the feel of the hips and ass that are slightly curvier than he expects, a narrow waist that is slightly too delicate.

When the master looks at his now-naked captive, he sees only perfection. The prince’s face tilts subtly to the side, toward the window, the sun playing tricks on the surfaces of his throat and his subtly sculpted chest. Still young at eighteen, he has been trained in the art of swordplay since his childhood, and Sephiroth can’t wait to continue his training and discover how the smooth, sculpted muscles will improve. And not just with swords. This morning, he has another plan altogether.

A soft shuddering breath escapes Cloud’s lips. It’s a gentle sound, an arousing sound, and so Sephiroth doesn’t hold back. Straddling the vulnerable body beneath him, he glides his hands down from the outstretched arms along his torso, dipping in at the narrow waist.

Almost too curvy for a man, he thinks, and yet sculpted to perfection. Another burst of gleeful success breaks through the warrior’s usually controlled demeanor—but there’s no one here to witness it (except me), and so he ignores it and moves his hands lower.

Even the prince’s cock is pretty in his half-aroused state. Sephiroth takes it upon himself to stroke it, watching with fascination as it fills with blood and rises to attention. Utter perfection. The prince’s peaceful facial expression changes from relaxed to aroused, even under the spell, his brows furrowing in confusion. Surely, he will wake soon.

Sephiroth doesn’t want that to happen prematurely, so while he continues the gentle ministrations to the prince’s erection, he turns the slender body to the side, giving him access to the sculpted mounds of his captive’s bottom. Of course, Sephiroth plans to prepare him—but despite any preparations, this virginal body will most likely get a bit of a shock with what is coming. Sephiroth reminds himself that the prince himself asked for this—unless he was kept really sheltered in Nibel.

He slowly skates his fingers down the prince’s spine, resting for a moment on the cleft of his ass. A strange image appears in Sephiroth’s mind as he examines the details of the base of his pretty prince’s spine. What might he look like with a tail? Covered in long, plush fur, the same shade of gold as his hair? Shaking his head, he feels slightly confused by the image. It seems out of place—and definitely irrelevant to the task at hand.

Not so irrelevant for me, however. I used that catboy image to its fullest, creating a wonderful little fic from it and the other worlds in which the planet's hero has found himself.

Using slow movements and a gentle touch, Sephiroth begins stretching and lubricating his new consort for the first time. He is pliable but tight inside, and so the silver-haired man moves carefully, even as his own arousal continues to build to a near painful level. He continues to stretch the younger man until he can spread three fingers in the tight, silky passage. His lovely consort stays sound asleep, even as his body is excited.

Placing a pillow beneath the young prince’s hips, the lord of the castle arranges him carefully on his belly, noticing with pleasure the clear drops of precum beading at the tip of his erection. Sighing with anticipation, Sephiroth straddles the young man’s thighs, scooting closer to the perfect mounds of flesh before spreading them apart.

The prince’s face is still turned to the side, his cheek pressed flat to the mattress, his lips barely parted. The more experienced warrior watches every twitch of his expression in the mirror. A soft sigh escapes at the touch of Sephiroth’s hands. It greatly pleases his new master—earning a response even in his sleep.

While the lord would prefer a more active participant, for this initial consummation he plans to take full advantage of the prince’s current sleep-induced compliance. Purring in satisfaction, he slowly breaches the blonde’s virgin hole, watching the now-worried expression on his victim as the furrow between his eyes deepens. As the silver-haired man presses inside, a pained sound escapes sleeping lips, and Sephiroth is delighted when his new consort’s lashes flutter against his cheeks.

A pink tongue slips out between his lips and Sephiroth feels the youth squirm in discomfort beneath him. He has stopped his advancement and it feels like torture with his dick’s head squeezing between the rings of muscle and the promise of pleasure so close at hand, but he wants to watch the prince wake. In the mirror next to the bed, the blonde licks his lips and struggles to open his eyes—the worried expression on his brow deepening to pain and bewilderment.

“Ah—mm—what...?” Disjointed words trickle from that luscious mouth as the prince's insides flutter around him. Watching his mouth move so carefully and struggle, Sephiroth can’t wait to see what other skills it has—or can learn.

“Welcome to your new home, my pretty puppet,” the silver-haired man murmurs, voice covered in enough lust that the younger man opens his eyes wide. Blue eyes sparkle in the morning light—surely a shock for him after being in darkness for so long. Long lashes look almost too dark for the color of his hair, but they fan out against his cheeks with each confused blink.

“My new home? Ahh!” Cloud’s echo ends with a sharp cry as his entrance is breached further. He looks utterly surprised and confused, but immediately tugs at his bonds and tries to figure out his surroundings. Each minuscule motion of his hips causes his insides to tighten around the man taking him, and Sephiroth enjoys every minute of it.

“Mm. It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.” Lust covers Sephiroth’s growling tone, sending a shudder through the body pinned beneath him.

“You can’t be serious—ouch!” Cloud struggles to form the words. He’s never been woken in such a way, and even he is not sure if he’s talking to me or Sephiroth or himself. Lowering his voice, he tries to assert his authority. “Get off of me!”

Sephiroth is pleased by his captive’s spirit if a little surprised by the words. Surely, the prince has been educated about captive brides and bridegrooms. It’s common practice when parents can’t agree on a match or when the groom can’t afford the bride’s price. In this case, Sephiroth wanted the match, but Prince Cloud’s kingdom would achieve more wealth and prestige through ties to Wutai. Although, the silver warrior was surprised by the lack of guards surrounding the virgin prince’s door. If his parents had been more careful, his capture might not have been so simple. Still, Cloud sent him that letter, begging to be rescued from his life as Wutai's concubine.

“I’ve never been more serious,” Sephiroth murmurs, deliberately meeting frightened blue eyes in the mirror. He reaches down to brush his fingers on Cloud's cheek. “Oh, you look so frightened. You have nothing to fear, young prince. I assure you, my intentions toward you are honorable.”

“There’s nothing honorable about this!” The golden prince exclaims. His body tightens up around Sephiroth’s erection, making a soft sigh spill from his lips. And the larger man advances a little more, sending a splitting wave of pain through the younger man’s body. “Fuck!”

“Such strong language from a noble prince! No matter. It will please me to break you of that habit.”

“You’ll do no such thing—ah!” Cloud cries out in pain.

“Your training has already begun, sweet puppet,” his master purrs from above. It pleases him to watch understanding bloom on the prince’s face.

“Get the fuck off!”

“I’m about to, precious, though I appreciate your enthusiasm.” With each cry, the young man’s body tightens around him, squeezing him to the point of pleasurable pain. “No need to be shy, kitten. You belong to me now.”

The prince, now unable to form words, cries out desperately at the unexpected intrusion into the deepest, most private part of his body. He struggles, making his pain worse.

 _I do not want to be forced to marry the Silver Demon after he ravishes me! And ravish?! What am I thinking?_ Cloud internally reprimands himself. He knows better than to use the words “ravish” and “the Silver Demon” in the same thought. That’s just asking for trouble! Although it is far too late to worry about that. I can't help smiling at his frustration, wondering at how much resistance he feels he needs to show. But the silver-haired man speaks before I can whisper into Cloud's mind.

“Relax, precious prince. If you behave, I won’t hurt you. In fact, I will make you feel very good.” His voice rumbles as he slides his hand down the younger’s back. “If you resist and fight, however, I won’t guarantee the consummation will be painless. Surely, you knew what to expect when you reached out to me?”

The younger man panics now, struggling to escape but trapped. He isn’t enhanced in this world and stands no chance against the larger man. _What the hell was Aerith thinking?!_ I can hear him swearing in his mind.

“I never—ah—reached out—ah!” The soft cries interrupting his speech sink deliciously in the silver-haired man’s ears.

“You did. You invited me to capture you—to save you from marriage to Lord Godo.”

“What? Ngh!”

“You’re absolutely beautiful. Don't deny me. Embrace me.”

The low murmur of his voice seeps into the blonde’s ears, making him shiver with arousal. When he glances in the mirror at the emerald eyes, his pupils are so wide they are almost round, the orbs sparkling in the mid-morning light. Sephiroth reaches out his fingers, stroking from the top of his blonde head down to his neck and shoulders, meeting Cloud’s eyes in the reflection.

“You’re perfect.”

Silver hair floats over his shoulders, caressing Cloud like the finest strands of silk. With some distress, Cloud notices his own arousal. _How can I be hard at a time like this? This isn’t what I want!_ I hear his thoughts echo, and I am sick of it.

 _ **Relax,**_ I think. _**This is for your sake, Cloud.**_

“Please,” he begs softly, eyes burning with rage.

“Relax. You are mine.” Resting a finger up against soft lips, emerald eyes meeting cobalt. The rage simmering beneath the young man’s gaze sends a wave of arousal through his captor’s body. It’s unexpected though quite welcome.

The blonde clearly understands he ought to just allow this intimacy to increase his chances of survival. But he can’t. Instead, he sinks his teeth into the finger by his mouth, ignoring how the bite increases both of their arousals. Sephiroth pulls away, fingers to his lips, licking off a few drops of blood.

“I see. So you like it rough, my pretty little prince?” That insufferable smile plays at his lips as he issues his threat.

“N-no—wait—”

As the blonde is not enhanced in this time and space, he can’t resist or fight back. He knows his efforts are futile, and he immediately regrets his impulsive action. The green-eyed man knows it, too, and is pleased with his plans for the little blonde.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Sephiroth’s voice stays soft and calm, frightening the blonde more than he would if he heard anger. “Capricious little prince—you can’t change your mind this late in the game.”

“Get the fuck off me!” Cloud shouts, struggling with all his might. Frustration boils over when Sephiroth won’t even budge, remaining fully seated inside Cloud’s body and when his tone remains calm, soft, and seductive.

“I told you. You are mine.”

His next movement is deliberate, pushing Cloud’s torso flat on the bed, pinned down once more by the silver-haired man straddling his hips. Large hands caress his perky ass, sliding a fingertip between the cleft between his muscular cheeks, while soft lips kiss his nape.

Fear sparks up Cloud’s spine, a shiver following in its wake. Only now does his sense of self-preservation kick in fully.

“P-please,” he begs again, trying to relax his legs for a moment. Sephiroth looms over him, resting most of his weight on Cloud’s thighs, the entire length of his cock stretching him painfully. “I...”

“You haven’t done this before, I know,” Sephiroth’s voice sounds warm as his fingers brush through blonde spikes. “Gods, everything about you is so _soft_ : your hair, your skin, your voice, your eyes.”

Gently urging the younger to relax his neck and rest his cheek on the mattress beneath him, the silver-haired man lets his hair brush across the nude form beneath him. The touch is unexpectedly arousing to the younger man who tries his best to keep his body relaxed around the unwelcome intrusion, letting the heavier man’s weight overpower him. Once Cloud’s muscles relax and he stops struggling, a murmur of encouragement floats into his ear. It fills his chest with the strangest sense of peace.

“Don’t tell me you are attracted to Lord Godo, precious. I know you aren’t. You begged me to rescue you.”

“N-no...” Cloud is frustrated with himself for stuttering like a helpless fool, but he doesn’t quite manage to control it.

“Good little puppet,” his captor murmurs, and something warm and wet tickles his ear, nipping at the silver stud. “That’s much better.”

Sephiroth’s large hands skate down the younger man’s form, dipping in at his armpits and sending a ticklish sensation through his skin. Arousal floods the helpless blonde, much to his dismay, while Sephiroth murmurs in admiration.

“Your bones are so frail and delicate. It would be so easy to snap them.” When the smaller form stiffens, trying to pull away from the iron grip, Sephiroth speaks low in his ear again, following his words with his tongue. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to fear. I won’t hurt you—at least not beyond the remedy of a Cure.”

With Cloud’s wrists trapped overhead, Sephiroth drags his hands around the slender shoulders to his back. His nails leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The smaller man’s back arches as fingers travel down his spine to his exposed ass, circling his stretched entrance gently. The touch tickles just a little, forcing soft gasps from between clenched teeth at the unfamiliar sensation. But then he suddenly withdraws his hand and shifts around on top of the smaller body. Cloud turns his head toward the room to see what he is doing.

“Wait! Stop!” The panicked struggle begins anew and the silver warrior shifts suddenly, giving the perky ass a sharp slap. An embarrassing sound echoes in the room and the blonde lights up with a blush. It hurts—a little—but worse, it sends a wave of arousal to his groin.

_Shit. Maybe Aerith was right._

“You’re not very obedient, Cloud.” The way the blonde’s name rolls off his captor’s tongue sounds like he has been waiting all his life to say it in this context. And his words reflect my thoughts _exactly_. “Do you want me to return you to your kingdom as damaged goods after taking your virginity? You will be worthless. You’ll end up ruling alone—if your parents don’t disown you outright.”

Anger roils in Cloud’s chest at the threat.

“I’m more than my body,” he insists stubbornly. “Get off me!”

“If you’re truly more than your body—if you have some worth other than how you might pleasure me—then surely you won’t mind if I help myself.”

He pulls all the way out of Cloud’s ass before roughly pushing back in, and the smaller man curls against the bed, eyes brimming with pain and tears sliding from the corners of his eyes. Panting to help with the pain and panic, Cloud can’t move when Sephiroth strokes him from the inside. It feels so utterly intrusive, so degrading, and so weirdly arousing...

_**Relax, Cloud. We are trying a different method. You are still going to defeat him—just... by a slightly different method this time.** _

My voice echoes in the champion's head—and somehow, the thought that this is planned and deliberate fills him with rage at his helplessness. I wish he'd just relax and get into it more easily!

“I don’t want this!” He cries out, voice covered in sobs. It sounds so pathetic! Not at all like the world’s champion he knows himself to be. To be used this way—by him of all people—it’s too much!

_**Relax. Try to relax and enjoy it. He is enjoying himself and you have power in this role. You captivate him, Cloud.** _

Then, a fuzzy warmth fills Cloud from head to toe. The feeling is a familiar spell, freezing his body right where it is. He can’t speak or move, only breathe—and even that is slowed and relaxed. It’s a Stop spell. _Shit_!

“There. That’s much better, isn’t it?” Sephiroth murmurs. “Don’t fight it. Don’t deny me.”

A shock of buzzing pleasure lights up inside the young man’s body—from the place the older is caressing him inside. The touch sends pleasure sparking through his limbs when Sephiroth thrusts against his prostate. Sephiroth slows his thrusts, making them deeper and brushing that sensitive spot every other stroke. Cloud can’t hold back his moans each time he’s stimulated.

“So sensitive, pet. This is so much better, isn’t it?”

He has slowed down to a gentle pace—the violence threatened earlier forgotten. The spell forces Cloud to relax and accept the intrusion peacefully. It’s disturbing how easily he forgets his struggle. Soft gasps of pleasure color the room, tickling both their ears. He flushes when he catches a glimpse of his blissful face in the mirror—surprised to see emerald eyes locked on him.

After a few moments, the larger man shifts on the bed, keeping himself mostly inside Cloud. He pulls the smaller man’s body to his knees, keeping his chest flat against the mattress, the ghost of fingertips creeping down his spine. Cloud can do nothing to struggle against the spell.

“Good boy. Our reunion is nothing to fear. Through suffering, you will grow strong.” The words shiver in the room and sink into Cloud’s consciousness.

Without consideration for his comfort, Sephiroth plunges deep inside Cloud’s hole in a single thrust, fingers pinning the blonde’s hips in place to prevent him from escape. A loud, pained cry fills the air, and fresh tears spill down Cloud’s cheeks. The pain is incredible—and he can’t quite figure out why this hurts so much more in this world than it did in any of the others. However, even the pain doesn’t discourage his arousal and his cock pulses with eagerness. Sephiroth seems to be brushing against his prostate deliberately—making the pain and pleasure combine in an unfathomable whirlwind of sensation.

 _My gods, what is wrong with me?! How can I find this arousing?_ I can hear Cloud's distress in the recesses of his mind, and I try to soothe him.

“I have a present for you,” the silver-haired man purrs, directly into Cloud’s ear.

Cloud doesn’t need him to say it to know what it is. Despair floods him from where they are connected into his chest then into the rest of his body. A loud sob is forced from his body, despite the blonde’s attempt to stifle it.

_I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him know the pain he is causing. I won’t—_

“Relax, pretty prince.” The words spoken are soothing, and the hands pinning his hips in place stroke him gently, one circling Cloud’s erection, sending waves of lust through the younger man. Pained groans change to a burning pleasure when Sephiroth begins to move. “Good boy. So much better.”

When the taller man’s breathless voice seeps into Cloud’s ears, when he hears Sephiroth’s pleasure building rapidly, Cloud's body responds. More than anything else, Cloud wants to feel more—and he longs to buck his hips and meet each thrust with one of his own. His helplessness only adds to his frustration and his arousal, however—and it isn’t long before he approaches climax.

Disappointment and frustration spill over into a soft sob when Sephiroth’s hand tightens around Cloud’s hilt, a painful squeeze interrupting his rapidly building arousal.

“Patience, my pretty puppet,” Sephiroth purrs. “You will wait for me.”

However—Cloud isn’t able to wait. Instead, the moment Sephiroth releases his grip and starts moving again, Cloud’s climax is already upon him and overwhelms him. Even in his frozen state, pleasured moans fill the room as he climaxes. During his release, Cloud senses Sephiroth’s frustration behind him, and his pleasure fades too quickly.

The Stop spell releases just as Cloud has finished his climax. His body is jostled roughly as Sephiroth pulls out of him—erection throbbing angrily.

“I told you to _wait_ , my spoiled little prince.” Sephiroth’s voice stays low and calm, increasing Cloud’s dread exponentially. "It seems some proper training is due."

The blonde's body is flipped over on the bed, and he finds himself pinned in place by the heavier man, who throws the pillow under his hips to the floor. Sharp emerald eyes gaze down at him—watching his face carefully—as his body is rearranged on the bed. Cloud’s legs are spread wide, bent at the knee, and pressed against his chest, curling his body almost in half. Before Cloud has a chance to relish the humiliating new position—and how exposed he is in that damned mirror—the Silver General thrusts back into him—sinking deeper than before and aiming directly for that now-oversensitive bundle of nerves inside his body.

Cloud lets out a shriek—struggling to escape but trapped by Sephiroth’s heavy body and his wrists tied to the headboard.

“N-nngh—Stop!” He cries out.

Sephiroth’s deep breathing gets louder and more urgent as Cloud twitches around him, as he tries to expel him from his body. Silver hair spreads over Cloud’s chest as he fights the futile battle to escape.

“Relax, kitten,” Sephiroth murmurs. “Relax and let it happen.”

 _Let what happen?_ Cloud barely has a chance to wonder as arousal starts to build fresh in his lower half. So soon after his climax? It’s unheard of.

Another wave of fuzzy energy flows over his body—a healing spell perhaps? Used in a way he’s never experienced before. Once the warmth singes every nerve, Cloud notices his cock is hard again. What the hell?

Sephiroth grins down at him when Cloud realizes what he’s done—and it isn’t long before the taller man picks up the pace, slamming into Cloud’s ass violently. The sound their skin makes when it collides reminds him of the last world, and the image of being bent over the General’s desk makes an unwanted (yet all-to-arousing) appearance.

The sounds spilling out of him are uncontrolled and vulgar, but Cloud can’t hold back now that the Stop spell has been removed. His hips rock back to meet Sephiroth in a desperate, wanton fashion, bringing both men closer to climax.

“Please—”

The desperate plea from his throat begs the silver warrior for release—and Cloud can’t regain even the slightest bit of dignity at this point. He is soon overwhelmed and weeping tears of pleasure close to overstimulation. Thankfully, Sephiroth seems close and deepens his thrusts.

Cloud’s climax bursts forth in a fountain of pleasure, unable to hold back, unwilling to hold back. He yells Sephiroth’s name—much to his surprise—and hears his own spoken in a soft, whispered reply, equally urgent.

The afterglow flows through his body, relaxing him all at once like a drug—and he is pressed into the mattress beneath the larger man’s weight. But soon enough, Sephiroth pulls out, leaving a sticky, messy trail between his legs. Flushed with embarrassment but utterly sexually fulfilled, the blonde shivers with confused pleasure and relaxation.

**_It’s your ass, Cloud._ **

_What?_

**_What will save him—and the world—and me from boredom—it’s your ass._ **

_What the actual—?_

But the world dissolves before his eyes, and he wakes slightly disoriented in the Lifestream.

* * *

"I told you, Aerith. It's too rough. It's too _much_."

"And I think I told you, Zack, that he _enjoys_ pain."

"It's obvious he doesn't. I mean, look at him."

"You don't know bliss when you see it," I point out. "Or perhaps, there's a part of you that's _jealous_ that he doesn't look like that for _you_."

"What?" Zack sounds utterly appalled.

"Oh, come on. I know it. You know it. I know you know I know it. Just admit it."

"I won't be party to your perverse fantasies," he insists stubbornly. "But I guess you might be right. He looks really good like this."

"In that world, he knew exactly what he was getting into," I explain. "It's not my fault he won't bring up his current self's memories. He'd have realized Seph did exactly what he asked for."

"Still, it just seems unfair."

"I'll let him rest a moment before I send him on to the next world."

"Hopefully he understands what will save them all now. What will save the planet and Sephiroth and even himself."

"He should. He's just a damn fool when it comes to romance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes. Aerith may be just a tiny bit sadistic in this fic. But I think it adds to the overall “theme.” And to the overall consent “issues,” we will call them.


	7. Day 6 - Sex Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud wakes up at the Honeybee Inn—only a slightly different inn than canon.
> 
> Triggers: non-con sex, unsafe BDSM practices (no safewords), non-con restraint/bondage, improper use of materia, object insertion, gags, flogging, orgasm delay/edging, asphyxiation. (Yeah, really. All these in one chapter. You’re welcome.)

My eyes are covered with a silk blindfold. I carefully take in my environment with my remaining senses—noticing right away a burning sting on my backside, currently close to naked and resting on my calves. I am kneeling in the darkness. Worse, my mouth is stuffed with a gag and my wrists are cuffed and bound to my ankles with no slack in the chain. This is not any better than the last world into which I was tossed so carelessly.

“Stay still.”

The command comes low and hard from a voice I don’t recognize. But then gloved fingers run through my hair. I pull away—or try to—but can’t move.

“General, sir, I’d recommend another one of our pets. This one is willful.”

“I don’t mind willful when they are this pretty,” the General’s voice seeps into my ears. It must be his hand in my hair. It crawls down the side of my head and grabs my chin, pointing it up and tilting it back and forth as if examining me.

The helplessness is becoming more familiar than I’d like to admit—but I can’t tell if I am enhanced in this world or not. I’d guess not, since the bonds on my wrists don’t allow me to move even an inch.

“He bit his last client.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He’s extremely disobedient. Of course, he’s been punished, but you’ll most likely need to see to his discipline if you don’t prefer another more experienced and obedient Honeyboy.”

“I like this one,” Sephiroth’s voice fills my ear, sending a shiver through me.

“Of course, sir. He’s all yours, sir. Just—um, please don’t damage him permanently. He's very new.”

The soft clinking of keys click in my ear and my wrists are unfastened from my ankles.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pet,” the low voice warns. “I’m sure your client won’t hold back if you step out of line.”

My arms are pulled roughly in front of my body and fastened together with a short chain. I move to climb to my feet, but a heavy weight presses down on my shoulder.

“I just _told_ you not to get ahead of yourself, pet. Stay on your knees.”

Another soft click connects a chain to my collar—gods, I’m wearing a collar? What _is_ this place? The leash is handed off—I assume to Sephiroth.

“Please, enjoy your evening. We’ve reserved your regular room, sir. And though he isn't well-trained yet, he’s supposed to remain on his knees unless you authorize something else.”

“Thank you.”

The leash tugs at my collar and I follow—humiliated as I crawl across the hardwood floor. I don’t have any idea where I am, however. I try not to make any noise, but as I crawl, I notice the skin on the back of my thighs and ass is still stinging and bruised with each movement. I hear the sound of a door opening and closing behind me. The leash goes slack and I freeze in place.

“Kneel.”

I obey without question—feeling helpless and vulnerable, full of shame that I find myself in another world in which I have so little influence.

“I’d like to see your eyes, but I want you to stay in the dark. I’ll cast blindness on you.”

A warm sensation flows through my body when the spell hits me, the dark behind the black blindfold sinking even deeper. I hear and feel the silk slipping off, and I’m relieved to be able to move my tongue when the gag is removed my mouth. My chin is lifted again.

“Strife.”

I am a little surprised to hear him call my last name.

“You are even more enchanting in person than your personnel file indicated. Your eyes still hold their initial mako glow. I would say I’m sorry your intolerance forced you to leave the SOLDIER program, but that makes our relationship much easier to negotiate.”

Relationship? I wonder. I have no idea what Aerith’s intentions are for this world, and now I’m frightened.

“Cloud, you seem hesitant. Have you forgotten your training?”

“S-sir?” I whisper, unsure if I am allowed to speak. In response to the single word escaping my mouth, I am backhanded, harshly, on my cheek, the sharp pain making my ears ring.

“It seems we will have to start afresh, then. I’m delighted. Get on the bed.”

I turn my head, confused, unfamiliar with the room. I take a guess and head toward where I think a bed might be, pulling myself up to my feet. Before I’m on both feet, my ass is spanked with the same gloved hand. I fail to suppress a cry of surprise more than pain. As I suspected, my outfit shows off my ass plainly, since I felt the leather glove against my skin.

“Puppet,” his voice purrs, laced with disappointment. “I said the bed.”

“I don’t know where it is!” I burst out, another few blows raining down on my ass making me flinch and jerk back into a kneeling position.

“Hmm.” I sense the tall man walking around me and I lower my butt to my calves. “I think I might believe you. But you ought to know better than to speak unless you’re asked a specific question. Perhaps you ought to apologize.”

I think he is standing right in front of me. I don’t know how to apologize without speaking, but I lower my body down almost on instinct, feeling a familiar flash of submission flood my system. I feel the soft leather with my hands, and impulsively I lean down to drop a few kisses on the rounded toes of his boots.

“That’s a good boy. I knew you’d behave yourself with me.” My hair is ruffled gently. “That will be your only warning, puppet.”

I feel the need to reply—the need to say, “yes, sir,” and indicate my submission and intent to obey, but he told me not to speak unless I was asked a question. To my relief, my shoulders are given a gentle push, and I head in the direction as requested, relieved to find a large bed. I climb up and kneel on it.

“Hands and knees, lower your chest to the bed.”

I obey as requested, feeling a hint of chill on my backside and legs. I’m so utterly vulnerable now—and I am not sure if I like the feeling or if it frightens me more.

The soft sound of leather peeling away from skin makes my breath catch in my throat. I don’t move—not even when fingers touch the cleft at the base of my spine and slide down. Something smooth and cool is pressed against my hole, and I swallow nervously.

“Don’t worry, puppet. I won’t hurt you if you stay relaxed and obedient.”

I want to know what it is—it feels like a large bead. The liquid sound of lubricant squishes in my ears and the smooth sphere is moved briefly. Now, when it’s returned, it’s wet.

“Take a deep breath in.”

I obey, and as I exhale, the smooth ball is pressed inside. I must be at least partly prepared since there isn’t any pain. There’s just a slight discomfort and I fight the urge to bear down and push it back out. For the life of me, it feels like materia. But why would...?

“Good boy.”

The praise sends a wave of unexpected pleasure through my body, followed immediately by a burst of indignation. Since when do _I_ , the champion of the Gaia, desire praise from my enemy? The hand on my ass moves to rest slowly on my lower back, and I hear a soft breathy sigh behind me. The ends of silky hair brush my bare skin—though I am not completely naked. It seems my outfit doesn’t begin to cover any place I would want to keep covered. Shame blends in with anger and desire and frustration. I close my eyes.

“No. Keep your eyes open. I want to look at them.” My chin is touched gently and I jerk my eyes open to obey. “You truly are a gorgeous creature.”

Hands continue to stroke me, but then a warm flowing feeling emanates from that sphere deep inside me. It starts to vibrate slowly, sending waves of lust and pleasure sparking up my spine. It feels like an Earth materia, but the vibration is subtle. I’ve never heard of materia being used this way before. I struggle to keep quiet, but my legs start to shake and I lower my entire body to the mattress.

“Hmm. Not yet, puppet. I heard you bit your last customer. I’d like to rest assured you won’t do the same to me. So to discourage you, let me give you a sample of what will happen if I feel even a graze of your teeth.”

Without further ado, I’m unceremoniously and violently pulled toward the edge of the mattress by my ankles. Despite the burn of fabric against my private parts and my belly, I try not to resist, though my instincts are telling me to sink my nails into the sheets. I’m arranged with my feet on the floor and torso flat on the bed. Almost immediately, the soft touch of several strands of knotted leather ghost over my shoulders and back, slipping lower. A flogger?! You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!

“Please—” I foolishly let a plea for mercy slip from my lips, and the leather disappears in an instant with a loud snap, only to land hard against my ass. The sharp sound sends a bolt of fear through my body even before the pain registers. It overlaps previous welts, and I cry out in a suppressed gasp of pain.

“What did I say about speaking, puppet? You really ought to know better.”

A half dozen lashes cover my buttocks and upper thighs. I wince with each blow, tears spilling down my cheeks as I try my best to suppress my sobs. Relief floods me when the flogging stops, and I pant deeply to catch my breath. There’s a heavy feeling sinking in my core—probably from that materia inside my body. When my lower back is touched softly, the subtle shift of vibration speeds up, making me squeeze my thighs closed and press against the bed.

“Excellent. I’m pleased we won’t have to start from scratch,” Sephiroth says. “On your knees on the floor, puppet.”

A soft push to my shoulder encourages me to move, and I sense the taller man shifting around, sitting down on the bed with his legs on either side of me.

“Let’s see if the lesson has sunk in.” Without waiting for a reply, two fingers slip into my mouth. I flinch at first, but then relax, letting his long fingers examine inside my mouth. But they are quickly withdrawn and my shoulders are pushed down and forward, my bound hands moved to the button of those leather pants.

I hesitate for a moment, but I know what he expects. As if to remind me of the consequences should I fail to comply, the knots from the flogger are dragged across my forearms. That forces me into action, and I pop the button and lower the zipper on his pants.

“Good boy,” he sighs, the moment his erection springs free. I feel the heat rising from his skin. He rubs his cock against my cheeks and chin before nudging at my lips. I relax as much as I can, opening my mouth hesitantly. “Keep your teeth covered.”

The moment I allow entrance, the vibration inside me speeds up again. I hum around his cock as the materia stimulates my prostate, shifting around subtly to try to get a little more comfortable.

“Relax your jaw and throat, puppet.”

I do—and his hand digs into my hair, curling into the blonde spikes and gripping tight. He slowly starts to move my head, fucking my mouth.

“A little more tongue.”

I move it, flattening it out, swirling it around, using it to protect the smooth, silky skin from my teeth, but I cough when he pushes in a little too far. Thankfully I manage not to bite down, but I continue gagging regularly, fear rising faster than arousal. One of his boots shifts slightly, lifting off the ground and lowering directly to my cock. It’s exposed and half-hard, but I groan when the sole of his boot threatens to crush it. It sends a burst of pleasure into my spine, especially combined with the pleasant vibration inside me.

None of this makes sense. Why am I feeling _pleasure_? From this sort of violent treatment?

“Good boy,” he breathes, breathlessly. “I can’t imagine someone as sweet as you biting a paying client.”

I certainly can, I think with frustration, but instead, I find my hips slowly rocking in time as I rut against his boot and suck his cock, my toes curling from stimulation.

I continue sucking him off till I can’t breathe and am lightheaded from my breath being so controlled. My jaw starts to ache and I swallow around his cock during the next thrust, hearing another pleasured sigh. Just before I feel like passing out, he pulls out of my mouth.

“Good puppet. I knew you’d behave yourself for me.”

My jaw is grabbed and I blink several times when plush lips meet mine, licking off the saliva dripping from the corners of my lips. He tastes good—sweet and clean—and I relax into the kiss, even as fingers wrap around my throat and the hand in my hair tightens its grip. I moan softly into his mouth, but I allow the exploration, keeping my hands braced on the inside of his thighs as my neck is craned at an unnatural angle.

“Back onto the bed,” he says after pulling away from the kiss. I blink again but quickly obey, crawling straight ahead when he stands up to make room. My wrists are yanked forward by their chain, pulling me flat against the mattress for a moment. I think he connects them to the headboard with a length of chain. “Your body is responding well to the materia. On your knees, puppet.”

It’s difficult to manage with my arms stretch ahead of me, but I raise myself to my knees. Almost in an instant, his hands are on me again, diving deep into my hole and grabbing the still-quaking materia. I gasp as he slowly pulls it out, noticing how my insides stretch around it. But once it disappears, I feel strange and empty.

The clacking sound next to the bed makes me think he’s dropped the materia on the floor. A hand comes back to stroke the welts on my ass, making them burn and tingle, and several fingers slip inside my hole to add additional lubrication. When the fingers withdraw, I hear the additional slopping of lubricant onto what I can only assume is his cock, and I cringe.

“No, kitten. Stay relaxed. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Even if he says that I can’t quite relax my abs or thighs. To encourage me (I think), an open-palm smack startles me out of my panic. I groan softly as a second spank lands a little lower, and then the heat from his body warms me up.

My eyes open wide—still sightless and frightened—and a shudder crawls up my spine. Even the short hairs on the back of my neck rise in fear when his fingers curls around my hips, preventing me from moving toward the headboard. I toss my head when I feel the slick tip of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I want to beg for mercy and I open my mouth to do just that, remembering in the nick of time that I am not allowed to speak. Instead, a soft whine escapes, indicating fear and terror. Tears burn my eyes but I struggle not to let them fall. I’m too distracted by the cock breaching my entrance.

“Deep breath in, puppet.”

Terrified, I take in a shuddering, shivering gasp. On the exhale, a desperate cry is forced from my lungs as the man behind me on the bed sinks his entire length into my body. I’ve been prepared, I’m well-lubricated, but the stretch is much larger than my earlier preparations. Tears drip onto the bedspread and my chest hitches in a sob. My inner organs feel like they’ve been crushed into my chest cavity to make room for his monstrous cock. My insides flutter around him as he stays perfectly still inside my body. My hands claw at the sheets under my hands, but I can’t move or do anything to protect myself. I must be imagining it, but I think I can feel his cock on the outside of my belly, pressed up against my knees.

Even before I get a chance to adjust, he pulls all the way out, leaving his tip pressed against my burning hole. My body clenches in desperation, but he ignores it, shoving himself back inside me with a hard thrust. He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he does so—and despite my pain, the sound fills me with longing.

He rests another moment, releasing the hard hold on my left hip, dragging his fingers toward my cock. I’m shocked to find it dripping and aroused, but he is simply touching me as if to check in.

“Good boy.”

With those words, he pulls out again and moves his left hand to my shoulder, pushing my upper body flat against the bed. This time, when he pushes back inside, while it burns, it’s less painful than the first two thrusts and he hits my prostate deliberately. The unexpected burst of pleasure tingles through my core and forces another harsh, tearful gasp from my mouth.

“Let your voice go, puppet. I want to hear you.”

He repeats the movement, quickly picking up his pace. Soon, I am crying out in pleasure—still despite the stretch—with each thrust. My toes curl, and it’s honestly even more enjoyable than the vibrating materia that was inside me earlier. He continues to move, and I pull at the restraints above me. When I can’t release my hands, I try to lower my hips toward the bed to gain a little friction against my cock, but I’m easily stopped.

“You will come like this or not at all.”

A shiver of desire courses down my back at his command—and part of me wonders if I really do enjoy submitting like this. Of course, I don’t know if I have any safewords available to me in this world, but I’d suspect I don’t. I’m not allowed to speak, after all. And so, I let my body rock along with his thrusting, cries of pleasure and desperation mingling in with the restrained sound of his breathing. My climax builds up to an intolerable level and I quickly peak, spilling out against the mattress, letting my voice go loud and clear.

To my shock, he continues fucking me through my orgasm—even after my climax, he keeps brushing my prostate to the point of overstimulation. My pleasured cries melt into wordless pleas to stop, my entire body shivering with unpleasant excitement.

“Please—please!” Words escape my mouth when my body is fucked mercilessly. He stops immediately, pulling out of me and slapping my ass twice—hard. To my shock, the spanking sends a burst of fresh arousal into my hips.

I hardly have time to consider it, however, when my legs are yanked back and I’m flattened against the bed. I’m flipped over to my back, my thighs spread wide, and my legs wrapped around Sephiroth’s neck. I think he’s pulled me to the edge of the mattress, my arms stretched uncomfortably overhead.

He grabs my cock, which to my utter shock is starting to rise again. But I don’t have a chance to enjoy the sensation when he slams into me. A loud, pained breath escapes—this position feels deeper than before, and I feel like my prostate is open game for a fresh assault. His fingers continue toying with my cock as he fucks violently into me.

Despite the overstimulation and desperation (or gods, what if it’s _because_ of it?!), I feel a second climax rising. The more arousal and lust flow through my body, the softer my cries become, changing into a whining, pleading mewl. I am pinned against the bed on my back, arms suspended uncomfortably overhead. Sephiroth’s breath pants on my face, moving my damp, wispy bangs. My eyes are open wide and blinking slowly, but I can’t see anything. My other senses seem to more than make up for my blindness, however—every sensation brushing my skin and deep inside my body is enhanced, the soft floral smell of the man’s hair floods my nose, the soft panting breath sends waves of arousal into my hips.

My body tenses suddenly, in preparation for a second climax. My breath picks up and I turn my head since it’s the only movement I am allowed. But I’m thwarted almost instantly—the hand stroking my cock tightening at the base in a painful grip and my mouth is immediately invaded by Sephiroth’s tongue.

“Not so fast, puppet,” he purrs softly as he pulls away.

He doesn’t slow his pace, continuing to fuck me hard into the mattress. My prostate sends loud bursts of tingling pleasure through my core, and I moan, utterly frustrated into his mouth. But I do not beg. I calm down, the point of no return successfully avoided.

And then he relaxes his grip on my cock. He shifts around slightly, moving his hand behind my neck while grabbing my collar. He pulls it back slowly, cutting off my airway. My body stiffens suddenly—my cock even more—with the unexpected, slow-paced violence. He is very careful about how hard he is pulling, and his mouth occasionally meets my lips. Mostly he has pulled back, probably observing me as I am slowly deprived of oxygen.

My ears buzz and my lips and nose tingle, and the edges of darkness around my vision fade to gray. A wonderful sense of freedom floods my body once I give into the helpless sensation, feeling my tension release gradually. It feels so good—so rich—as if this is my entire purpose in life.

“Tilt back your head and show me your throat.” To assist me, the fingers dig against my scalp and grip my hair, forcing my neck to crane back against the mattress. It makes me feel even more vulnerable as he tightens the grip on my collar.

He forces a few soft gasps from my mouth, especially when he lays his entire body down on top of me, forcing my legs apart so my cock is crushed beneath his weight. His hair spills over his shoulders to brush against me and tickle my skin. I feel every strand caressing me. It feels good— _so_ good—when the thrusts against my prostate increase and strengthen. At this point, my body writhes against the bed, struggling to rock my hips back against his heavy weight but pinned in place. I can’t even move my head anymore with the pressure on my collar. My insides flutter and twitch around his cock. I’ve always been flexible, but my thighs are spread beyond comfort, my hip joints popping dangerously. But even that is a pleasurable pain, and I no longer hold back my voice.

“S-Sephiroth,” I cry out loud, eyes widening with fear when I realize I’ve spoken without his permission. But his response is a simple, purring hum.

“I can’t seem to punish you for that infraction,” he says, the words coming out punctuated with harsh breaths. “Not when you call my name in pleasure, kitten.”

“Sephir—” My now permitted cry is interrupted with a brutal, mind-numbing tug against my collar. I’m sure purple bruises are forming beneath it. But I _love_ it—I can’t get enough, my cock rises and drips against my stomach, against his stomach, and he deliberately slows his thrusts.

Now moving deep inside my body, he doesn’t pull out of me more than an inch, keeping his thrusts shallow and perfectly aimed to assault that now tender bundle of nerves. I try to cry out my pleasure, but the collar cuts off my voice, leaving me breathless and choked. Aroused enough so I feel my climax approaching, he catches me again, freezing all movement and squeezing my hilt.

I cry out in frustrated pain, but he doesn’t move, except for the now rapid rise and fall of his chest. He pulls his weight off me, still resting inside me, stretching me open, making me feel utterly taken—utterly owned.

“Now you may speak.”

“Sephiroth,” I breathe, able to use my husky voice since he’s relaxed the hold on my collar. I try to rock my hips, but he is much heavier than me and pinning me in place. He releases his hold on my hilt, and frustration bursts through my chest.

“Tell me what you want, puppet.”

“Please, Sephiroth,” I beg, my voice spilling in a whine.

“Please what, puppet?”

“Please—move!”

He shifts his hips slightly and then stops again.

“Sephiroth— _please_!”

“Tell me what you want, kitten. And be specific.”

“I can’t—I can’t,” I beg again. “Just...”

And he doesn’t move, simply waiting.

“Please...

**_Cloud. Come now. Give in. Relax and give in._ **

“Please, Sephiroth—please just fuck me. Let me come.”

“That wasn’t so hard, precious, was it?” He grabs hold of my collar once more, strangling me and blurring my vision, while simultaneously thrusting deep inside my body.

Utterly desperate voiceless screams seep from my lips in time to his cock pistoning inside me, and my thoughts blur into pleasure as I arch my back to meet him and submit my body. When he sinks his teeth into my exposed shoulder, my body releases in a heavy, dreamy climax—spilling between our stomachs and flooding my body with pleasure. My insides twitch around him in desperation and he follows with a breathless sigh, his cum filling my insides as I milk him dry.

I am still panting—his name on my lips—as I come down from the high. He pulls out, leaving a trail of cum between my thighs. My eyes open wide, wishing for the blindness to clear, and I feel a soft touch on my face.

“Still so gorgeous—and so disobedient. Puppet, what shall I do with you?”

The words are breathed so breathlessly—and with such utter tenderness—tears spill down my cheeks. But I don’t ever regain my vision in this world. Instead, my consciousness seeps out and back into the lifestream, not giving me a chance to even meet the green gaze I know is looking back at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this world isn’t any “easier” for Cloud. Aerith isn’t listening to Zack.


	8. Day 7 - Merman/Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter concludes my Kinktober 2020 fic. I have a bunch of other ideas that are in progress, and I will add them as stand-alone one-shots (I think) within the next month or so. But I thought it’d be nice to end with a little fluffiness.
> 
> CW: consensual sex, non-human sex, fishtails, first time, frottage, some mild medical injury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is a siren in this—but not a siren like in the literal sense. He looks like a merman, but he has the voice of a siren. He also has gills, claws, pointed ears, and fangs.

Costa del Sol is lovely at sunset. My Lieutenant General and I have been sent here to deal with monsters spotted off the coast, and they have been successfully eliminated. I’m sure Fair is off celebrating while I enjoy a stroll on the beach.

It’s warm for fall, but I suppose the mild climate to be expected in this seaport town. I’m not just out stretching my legs if I’m honest. There was an incident two days ago which nearly cost me my life. After taking a hard blow from one of the giant sea serpents we were sent to dispatch, I lost consciousness as I fell in the ocean. I have a vague recollection of being rescued by a mutant creature. When I woke on the beach, coughing up sea water and sand, I clearly remember a glowing pair of cerulean eyes, framed with long dark lashes, watching me. When I finally came to completely, the creature was gone. Zack saw nothing, and I haven’t seen the creature since. Still, my curiosity is piqued.

Steep cliffs hide small coves that are accessible only when the tide is out. Hidden behind the sound of the ocean waves, soft grunting echoes in my sensitive ears, indicating someone in pain just around the bend. I hasten toward the sound and the sight before me shocks me.

On the beach in the sand is a creature unlike I’ve ever seen. It’s humanoid from the waist up—male, it seems—only instead of legs, it has a giant fishtail from the waist down. Long strands of golden blonde hair matted with black tar flutter in the breeze, tangled and snarled in wire. As I get a closer look, the entire creature is trapped in barbed wire, his tail covered in oily black goop. I approach carefully, but the creature notices me and glares up from his helpless place on the sand, anger and pain flashing in his deep blue eyes—the same pair I remember from two days ago. I didn’t remember how captivating he was. I hold up both hands in a gesture of peace, but the creature continues to struggle.

“Don’t move. You’re hurting yourself more. It’s all right,” I tell him. “Calm down and let me help you.”

He ducks his head and squirms into the sand, just like any injured animal would do. I know better than to assume he’s helpless. Nothing strikes faster and more deadly than a wounded animal. Taking light steps in the sand, I approach. His hair is layered and waist-length and mostly snarled within strands of wire, matted with the same black tar. It smells like oil, I notice, and surely, that can’t be healthy.

“You saved me, didn’t you?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and squatting down in a crouch. I reach my fingers out tentatively to stroke his hair, and he briefly stops moving. At this distance, his face is beautiful—even twisted in pain. Tears shimmer in his blue eyes. “Can you understand me?”

He nods, and so I continue, pressing lightly against his chest, encouraging him to lie back and be still. The more he struggles, the worse this bird’s nest tangles around his tan skin.

“Try to be still. Do you have a name?”

He opens his mouth to respond, and a very soft sound comes out.

“Cloooow.”

I can’t understand him, but I repeat what he said as close as I can. He shakes his head in annoyance and tries again, but it sounds the same to me. Finally, he gestures his chin toward the sky.

“Sky? Your name is Sky?” I guess.

His tongue clicks and he gestures more firmly.

“Cloud?” I take another guess. Another nod in reply. “My name is Sephiroth. You’re the one who helped me two days ago. You dragged me out of the water, didn’t you?”

A short nod accompanied by a soft sound affirms the question.

“You’re a mess. Let me see if I can help you. Stay very still.”

I draw the Masamune and the creature flinches. A frightened cry (also strangely quiet) spills from his lips and throat, and I soothe him again, touching his hair. It’s surprisingly soft, despite the seawater, sand, and oil matting it. “It’s all right. I’m going to detach you from this mess.”

I don’t wait for his reply and instead, bring the blade down sharply on the wire hanging off his body that he hasn’t managed to tangle around himself. I won’t be able to use my sword to get the rest off of him, so I work out a plan.

“I don’t have the right tools with me to get you out of this. I need wire cutters. We can find the right tools back at the house. I’m sorry, but moving you may be painful.”

He stops all movement, and I think he may understand me.

“Will you behave for me? Will you let me help you?”

He nods, his cheeks shining with tears. Removing my leather coat, I gently wrap his fin in it. This will protect him from curious stares—though I still plan to bring him in the back door, just in case the Science Department has any of Hojo’s cronies lurking about, looking for a new specimen.

I lean down to scoop him up, being careful to keep him still and prevent the barbs from sinking deeper into his skin and tail fin. He makes another pained sound when I get him settled in my arms.

“Gaia, you’re much heavier than you look,” I say, pulling him close to my chest. I drape his fin over his arm, trying to move him as little as possible.

I don’t waste time—a wave of gentle relief and genuine pleasure coursing through my body as I release my wing. He startles in my arms and presses his face against my chest as we lift off the ground.

Making our way as quickly as possible while still staying out of sight is a little tricky, but we make it without being noticed. My leather boots make a soft sound when I land on the balcony of the upstairs master suite. Thankfully, the door is unlatched and I walk into the empty room, gently laying the merman on the couch.

A _merman_. That is what he is—just like in a fairytale. I pick my PHS out of the pocket of my jacket, leaving it on his shivering form, noticing the blood seeping from the wounds on his smooth skin and a clear, viscous liquid leaking from his injured tail.

“Zackary, where are you?” I am brusque on the phone as usual, but my second-in-command has come to expect this.

“I was about to call you, Seph,” his cheerful voice comes across the line. “I’m at the bar and I met the _cutest_ —”

“I need you back at the house, _stat_ ,” I interrupt. “Bring a pair of wire cutters and all the first aid supplies you can get your hands on and come to the master suite.”

“Ah—sure—Seph, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just be quick about it and don’t make a fuss.” I don’t wait for a reply and close the phone.

The room is as luxurious as the rest of the cottage—it’s a suite with an attached bathroom and lounge area for which I’m currently grateful. Shinra spends too much on accommodations for assignments, but Costa del Sol has gone out of its way to treat us well for extinguishing their monsters. We’ve been given access to a fancy beach cottage—"cottage" is a modest word for it, too.

I kneel beside the creature on the couch, assessing the extent of his injuries. There’s not much I can do to make him comfortable without removing the wire first, so I try to soothe him while waiting for Zack. I have little experience with soothing or being soothed—only what I learned from my few friends when they helped me after rough sessions with Hojo. I try not to think too often of the friends who deserted not long ago. Though as I speak to the merman, I try to think about what Angeal might say and lower my voice as he would.

“I’ve called for help. You can trust both of us. We won’t hurt you. There’s not much I can do without getting the wires off first, but I will cure you once the wire is removed.”

He nods in acknowledgment, adding a quiet, snuffling purr. The barb sticking right into the tender skin at his throat concerns me, but I don’t dare move anything until I have the tools and healing potions to match. As I peer a little closer at his throat, his gills flutter like feathers on either side. He’s fascinating, and he meets my eyes boldly, examining me carefully in return. Though he must be suffering, he doesn’t falter or shy away.

Standing up, I grab my bracer and check to make sure the Cure materia is slotted properly. The poor creature can’t move either of his arms—one is pinned firmly against his side, the other against his back, probably from when he was trying to free himself.

I’m more than relieved when I hear the thud of the front door. Zack roots around to find the tools we need and thumps his way upstairs to the bedroom. The door opens, the creature on the couch speaks.

“Zaaa-k.”

Zack is as startled as I am—I’m _sure_ I didn’t mention the First Class by name. His eyes glow a deep violet when he takes in the situation. I don't miss the brief mix of shock and lust that flashes in his expression. It fills me with a strange feeling of annoyance or jealousy—and that doesn’t make any sense.

“Seph—holy fuck! What the hell is this?” He rushes in, unable to keep his feet quiet and thumping around the room as if it’s his own apartment. Or _my_ apartment. Stealth has never been the man's gift.

“This is the, um, person who rescued me two days ago. His name is Cloud.”

“Clow,” the blonde says quietly from the couch.

He looks frustrated that he can’t speak more clearly. It makes sense, I suppose. He has gills and of course, his voice would work differently if he lives underwater. His eyes are different, too. He has a clear third eyelid protecting the slightly flattened shape of the eye, and his pupils are much larger than a human’s.

“What the hell is he?” Zack is dumbfounded but never speechless. He didn’t believe me when I said I was dragged to shore by someone, saying I must have hit my head.

“I have no idea,” I admit. “But he looks like a merman.”

“As in, The Little Mermaid?”

I shrug, taking the wire cutters from his hand as he tries to get a hold of himself. Cloud makes another clicking sound with his tongue and looks away from Zack in disgust. Another soft phrase comes out of the blonde, too.

“Faa kyu,” he mutters under his breath.

Gaia, that sounded just like he cursed at Zack. I unsuccessfully suppress a smile.

“I don’t think he appreciates the comparison,” I say wryly, getting to work on the gnarled mess.

“Did he just tell me to fuck myself?” Zack says, smiling widely. He leans over the back of the couch and ruffles the blonde’s hair in a friendly way.

“Not so rough! He’s _injured_ , Zackary,” I chide. Then I address Cloud again. “Listen, I need to cut off the barbed wire. Try not to move, and tell me if it hurts. We will heal your injuries once the wire is out but not before. Otherwise, your skin may heal over the wire and we’ll end up doing more damage.”

With Zack’s help, we successfully remove the wire, one barb at a time. For the life of me, I don’t know how barbed wire would end up in the water except as garbage. I work efficiently and carefully, ignoring the feelings of rage boiling in my gut. More and more, I wonder if Shinra is responsible for ruining the gorgeous oceans and sea life as well as the planet.

“You’re doing good, buddy,” Zack soothes. I’m thankful he is here—he is much better at comfort than I am. “And you’re so pretty. You look like you’ve fallen right out of a fairytale.”

Zack helps by moving the blonde’s body and tail carefully as I lift and cut away the wire. Once we get to that mostly black tail, which has left oil all over the couch, I notice iridescent blue peeking out in some places, his scales shimmering like crystal.

“Fuck, I had no _idea_ creatures like him existed,” Zack murmurs. “And if they did, I thought they’d all be girls like Ariel.”

“Fuuuhk ahhf,” the creature swears again, but he doesn’t look nearly as irritated as he did before. But he stares up at the ceiling and rests the back of his hand against his forehead and says, “N fuk yu, too, Airis.” It sounds like he is cursing the planet for his suffering.

I’ve treated many soldiers on the battlefield and seen injuries worse than this, but Cloud handles the treatment well. His tail is surprisingly sensitive—more sensitive than his skin. The scales move independently, shimmying around to escape the pain, lines of paillettes shivering in long trails. Where the fin connects with his torso is divided by a ridge that is especially sensitive to touch and pain. His body shivers away from my fingers, but I can tell he is struggling to stay calm and still.

“You’re doing so well. Almost done,” I murmur, glancing up at his face. He is handsome—no, more _beautiful_ than handsome—in an ethereal way. His hair flows everywhere—almost as long as mine except in choppy layers. I manage to save most of his hair, only clipping what I can’t remove from the wire.

Once the wire is removed, I cast Curaga several times, watching as the skin knits itself together and the scales repair themselves. Cloud seems relieved but exhausted when it’s finished.

“Let’s get him cleaned up. This looks like oil. I’ll start the bath.”

“Wait, Seph,” Zack says. “Didn’t you find him in the ocean? I mean, he’s, um, like a saltwater fish, right? Can he take a bath safely?”

I look up at Cloud, waiting for an answer, hoping he understands.

“Ya.” He nods his head as well.

I stand up, tying my hair back as I do, wrapping it up in a messy but efficient bun, as I walk to the bathroom and get the water running. To clean oil, something like detergent would be best, so I use the cottage’s shampoo as a bubble bath. For the second time today, I’m thankful for the luxury. The bath is easily large enough for two people, so that massive fin won’t be a problem. I pull out several washcloths and unhook the showerhead as well, leaving my custom shampoo and conditioner next to the tub for his hair.

“Are you hungry, buddy? Thirsty?” Zack is chattering away. “Seph, you’re good for now, right? I’ll go get you both some food.”

“Fine,” I say. I’m a little spun up from all the activity, but I could handle a real meal, I suppose. "I'll bring him downstairs when we're finished."

“Sushi?” Zack jokes. He’s facing me, so he misses the evil glare from Cloud’s eyes.

“Zackary. Don’t even joke about it.”

“Ah, sorry, buddy. I don’t mean anything by it.” Ruffling the long blonde strands again, he walks out the door. “I’ll be back in a bit—service has been a little slow today, so I may be a while.”

“Thanks,” I say, and Zack’s chin jerks around. His deep blue eyes meet mine in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, um. Nothing. You’re just acting like a human today.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s more like it,” he says, now satisfied. The door latches as it closes behind him and I move back to the couch.

“The water is warm. Is that alright?”

“Ya,” Cloud replies.

He seems a little embarrassed when I scoop him up in my arms. He stiffens more and seems uncomfortable.

“It’s all right. I’m just going to wash this oil off. You can’t swim like this, after all.”

I lower him into the bubbles, and he relaxes, draping his arms over the back of the tub. It’s a strange picture—because, until this moment, I can’t imagine he’s ever had the opportunity to soak in a bath before. However, he looks right at home and is watching me, those sapphire eyes never leaving me.

I hand him a bottle of shampoo and a washcloth and then demonstrate—without making a fuss—about how I’m going to scrub the oil off his tail.

“We’ll start with your, um, scales, and then get to your skin and hair after we rinse, okay?”

“Kay.”

I’m pleased he responds, but I find myself slightly weirded out by his language ability. I don’t know how he learned to speak common. Maybe he’s learned from sailors or surfers or children playing in the sand. However, in all those years in Hojo’s labs, I _never_ met another mutant who could speak. Perhaps he isn’t a manufactured monster. Maybe he is a natural occurrence.

“So, have you always lived here?” I cringe inwardly at my desperate attempt to keep him in conversation. But I love the sound of his voice. Its tone is soft and enticing—almost like music.

“Ya, is home.”

“Do you have family nearby?”

I look up when I hear a soft, distressed sigh. When I meet his gaze, sadness looms in his eyes. He lowers his gaze to his washcloth, which is currently working just below his navel. I look at where he is working and admire the smooth musculature of his abs. He must be an excellent swimmer, I try to tell myself. But really, that’s _not_ what I’m thinking at all. His beauty is utterly distracting. I just want to hear him talk more—I want to hear his voice and watch him move.

“All gone, now," he replies sadly.

“I’m sorry,” I say, brushing his cheek. He doesn’t jerk away from me this time, but offers me a small smile, letting me catch a glimpse of sharp, jagged teeth. It reminds me a little of a shark. The more I examine him, the more I realize he is probably a predator.

“Nah your fall.” He touches my hand with his fingertips, dragging them slowly up my wrist and forearm, sending a funny little shiver into my belly.

I work from the bottom up, taking care to gently scrub the finger-like tips of his delicate split fin, watching with a certain degree of disbelief as more and more gorgeous iridescent blue is revealed as the oil washes away. When I reach the smaller fin at the front of his pelvis, he makes a soft sound of protest and pushes my hand away.

“We need to get all the oil off,” I explain, but I don’t touch without his permission.

“All do it,” he says stubbornly. “You do sad.”

“Sad?” I ask. He narrows his gaze at me grumpily. It’s an adorable expression and I realize too late that I don’t hide my amusement.

“Saaa-eeed,” he says, slow and long.

“Oh, your side fins?”

He nods.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter.

“Mmm.”

As I clean off the larger fins at his hips, it occurs to me that I was probably being too intrusive. Is he like a fish, a dolphin, or a shark? If he’s like a dolphin, I may have been touching too close to his reproductive organs...

A bolt of heat zips through my body. I look around the bathroom, wondering if someone else is in the room. It felt just like a materia spell—a mild Fire spell, perhaps? But there’s no one else here and neither of us have any materia at the moment. I turn back toward Cloud when I hear a low giggle.

“Gaia.”

I’m sure that’s what he said. I meet his eyes, shocked to see a gorgeous pink blush on his cheeks. _Shit_. That’s what it is, then. I try to keep my eyes on my work, but now my curiosity demands to be sated. Smart minds need answers, I think. To my disgust, I wonder if I inherited my thirst for knowledge from Hojo.

“Are you the last of your kind?” I ask casually.

“Ya. Jus me.”

“I see. I’m the only of my kind, too.”

Cloud freezes in place for a moment, dropping the washcloth into the water. He reaches out both hands and touches my face—gently angling my head to meet his eyes. I notice webbing between his fingers and sharp claws instead of fingernails, retracting as he makes contact.

“ _No_.” He’s determined about this, his expression utterly soft and gentle.

“I am, though,” I insist. “I was created in a lab.”

“ _No_. Hooman. Seff is _hooman_.”

“But I—”

He shakes his head and grabs my cheeks a little harder.

“ _No_ ,” he insists, his voice a little lower. It’s so sultry and soft and sexy—and Planets above, am I attracted to a _fish_?! “Seff help me. You are hooman.”

I don’t quite know what to say, so I don’t say anything for now.

“Thank you,” he purrs, the words quiet and clear.

“Of course. I’m just returning the favor. You saved me from drowning, after all.” I continue working on his hips once he moves his hands—trying to distract myself from whatever is under that fin. “Although, it’s humanity’s fault you’re injured and covered in oil.” I trace a long, older scar on his chest with my fingers, watching goosebumps trail behind the touch. “Surely, it’s not the first time you’ve been injured by mankind. Why would you help my kind?”

“Ah dint hep hooman. I hept Seff.”

The meaning of his words sink in, and I glance up at his face again.

“Have we met before?”

He shakes his head.

“Why would you help me then?”

Cloud sighs softly—and the sound melts into my ears. Another gentle flash of heat bursts through me, noticing now that it’s settling in my groin. Gods above, I _am_ attracted to this creature! There’s something so familiar about this, and I can’t quite place it. Did I read another fairytale about mermaids that I can’t recall? Professor Gast gave me a book filled with fairytales and legends when I was small. It was my favorite book, mostly because of how much it annoyed Hojo. My thoughts are interrupted by the enchanting voice.

“You need hep. You need care. I... I want to hep Seff.”

Then I remember Cloud’s exclamation when Zack first arrived.

“How do you know Zack?”

Cloud is surprised by my question. His reaction is a little suspicious when he averts his gaze, but then he turns to me again.

“Nother time.”

“You know him from another time?”

He nods.

“And me, too?”

He nods, but his eyes sparkle. I don't fail to notice when several tears slip past his long lashes and spill down his cheeks.

“Hurt. You _hurt_ ,” he tries to explain. “S’okay to love and be loved.”

What? I sit up straight, and this time I’m the one dropping the washcloth into the water.

“Um, maybe we should rinse you off now,” I say, a little weirded out by this exchange. Maybe I’m dreaming all of this. Maybe I _did_ drown in the ocean several days ago, and this is my experience of the Lifestream—except... _no_. I won’t have any such pleasantries in the afterlife, I’m sure. I haven't earned an eternity of peace or love.

Pulling the plug, the water drains, and I turn on the shower, rinsing the merman from his head to the tip of his tail. He’s gorgeous—even with the remaining oil splattered in his hair. Once it’s empty, I switch on the faucet, filling the tub with fresh water, and then get to work on shampooing his hair.

I use my shampoo. My hair is my singular vanity. I care for it as well as I do the Masamune. I work the fragranced soap through his scalp, massaging deeply as I go, feeling the blonde relax under my fingertips. When I scrub behind his slightly pointed ears, another soft sigh escapes. He helps work the suds through the ends.

This time, however, when his musical sigh floats into my ears, I remember why this feels familiar. It’s from The Odyssey—the sirens that sang to sailors and made them crash their ships. This creature—he’s not a merman but a _siren_. I’m startled to come to this realization, knowing he may be dangerous, but I still want to help him. I still desire him, too.

While processing the information slowly, I rinse the suds from his hair and shampoo it a second time, pleased with how smooth and soft it feels in my fingers. I keep my eyes on the gills on his neck. Even out of the water, they flutter regularly. He has an interesting scent—one I’m not sure an unenhanced person would be able to detect. It’s not fishy, to my surprise. He smells a little briny, which makes sense from the saltwater, but there’s another, softer fragrance lingering just beneath. It’s a fresh, cool smell—almost like a field of grass after a summer rainstorm.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. I need to get myself together.

“Should we condition it as well? It makes it easier to comb through,” I offer.

“Like Seff’s,” he says, reaching out to me and pulling his claws through my bangs.

“Like mine,” I murmur, unable to look away from the soft, pink lips that would be too plush on any other male. I work the conditioner through his hair and he relaxes.

As I'm rinsing the conditioner, he leans closer to me, curling his tail to give himself a little more height, and softly meets my lips. A wave of tremors rushes down my spine. Against my better judgment, I respond to the kiss, taking his chin in one hand and stroking down the sides of his throat, letting my fingertips trace the soft ridges of the gills. They are so warm and alive, shivering beneath my fingers—like nothing I have ever felt before.

He reaches out and digs his claws into my hair, grabbing the roots firmly and giving a gentle tug to arrange me where he wants. His jaw opens and he allows my tongue entrance. I feel his sharp teeth and meet his thick, muscular tongue—much rougher than my own. I continue the kiss for as long as he allows, losing a little of myself in the process.

Aside from Genesis, I’ve never kissed anyone. And that was only one time. I felt I was interrupting the relationship he had with Angeal, despite their encouragement. There are rumors, but no one has ever set foot in my apartment for that purpose. For the longest time, I felt that I had no libido, that it had been beaten out of me, or perhaps surgically removed, in Hojo’s lab. I remember watching lab assistants messing around in front of me, and I was curious about what they were doing. I could only think of Hojo’s remarks about how sex was for the sake of reproduction and otherwise useless and messy.

Of course, Genesis set me straight—as did Angeal. They cleared it up that sex between two willing partners is fun and healthy. They certainly never restrained themselves—not even on the battlefield of Wutai. I learned right away not to set up my tent too close to theirs.

Now, my mind wanders back to that strange fin and how protective Cloud was of it. I don’t dare touch without his permission, but I do let my fingers skate from his throat to his chest. His skin is utterly smooth and a warm, golden tan. When my fingers ghost across his navel, he shivers and lets out a little moan between our lips, moving into the touch rather than away.

I take it as encouragement, letting him pull me closer as I trace the ridge of scales just below his navel. The ridge is lowest in the front, a subtle V shape, and higher around his hips, giving him a beautifully curved shape. He’s delicious—and gorgeous—and I have never found myself quite so aroused before. He murmurs into the touch, twisting his hips to let me touch more, and I wonder suddenly how this is going to work.

When he pulls away from the kiss, his lips are swollen and red—and so lovely—and his cheeks blush sweetly. He flashes me a small smile and those enticing, dangerous-looking fangs.

“How is this—um,” I stammer uncharacteristically. “Do you want me to stop?”

He shakes his head.

“Touch more.”

“What do you want me to do?”

He lets out another enticing sigh—music to my ears—and asks, “Bed?”

That’s all he had to say. I scoop him out of the water, leaving a dripping mess on the floor. It is soaked immediately, but I don’t mind. I wrap him in a towel to dry him a little, but he's uninterested. I just want to kiss him more, touch him more.

“I don’t know how—um, I don’t know what you want,” I admit, after breaking the kiss. He’s lying back on the bed and shifts his tail around. It flops, loud and heavy against the damp comforter.

“Wet,” he says, smiling a little wider and reaching up to pull me close again.

“Hang on,” I stop him, covering his fangs with mine. “What would you like me to do?”

He lets out a louder sigh this time—I’d almost think it was frustrated, but I still wait for an answer.

“All hep Seff.”

He pulls me closer to his neck and then I hear a strange rumbling purr from his body. The purr—Gaia—it’s sexier even than the soft sighs from his mouth. It’s musical, too—and then I smell something new. It’s the summer rain scent—but more and more intense—and a soft warm haze blurs my vision. It seems to be pouring from his gills.

“Cloud?” I ask, but the shimmering golden haze sinks against my skin and floats into my nose and eyes. I have no idea what it is, but my body responds immediately. Pheromones, perhaps? It’s my last logical thought before something deep inside me snaps.

A sultry giggle shakes his chest as he pulls me close—but my mouth waters, my cock stiffens, and my pupils dilate. His eyes are dark and wide, but he continues to smile at me, welcoming my touch and reaching out to my pants. He unbuttons the pants quickly and takes out my cock in a smooth motion, and I gasp with pleasure at the touch. I am afraid I might come from a single touch of his fingers alone.

“Together,” he whispers directly into my ear and then distracts me with another kiss.

He shifts around beneath me, lining up my cock with that now soft fin at his pelvis, and I’m a little surprised when something hot and hard presses against me. I pull away and glance down. His cock is erect and poking through an opening just below that fin he didn't want me to touch. My heart throbs in my chest, my mind is completely overpowered by that fragrance—his pheromones—and I shiver with pleasure when his soft voice moans in my ears.

He pushes his cock against mine—and it’s shaped like mine, only a little shorter with a thicker head, and he frantically pulls my left hand over to encircle both of us together.

Ah. This is what he meant by "together"—and my brain short circuits. He rests his hand on top of mine, which is sliding up and down our erections, and he shivers. A clear, slimy fluid spills out of his slit—and makes the perfect lubricant. He moans again and writhes beneath me.

“Seph...”

With each utterance, my cock hardens, and more arousal floods to my hips. My cock is weeping, too—and I use it in combination with his slick fluid. The purr flowing from him vibrates both of us together and it’s utterly captivating.

There’s something so familiar about Cloud, writhing beneath me. It feels like another time and place spills between us—and my mind flashes with a thousand images—ranging from dancing in a club (in which he has legs, shorter hair, and looks human), to sparring in a destructed city, to having him suck my blood, to him having soft kitten ears and a fluffy yellow tail. It’s disorienting—and I’m sure it’s caused by the sweet scent spilling from his gills.

I glance at him beneath me, golden hair spilled all over the mattress, blue eyes glowing, the gills on his neck working overtime as that golden haze continues to pour out of his body. It dampens my skin and hair, soaking into me, adding to my arousal, and pushing both of us closer to climax. His cock stiffens a little more and he moans in delight.

“Seph... i... roth...”

When I hear my name from his lips, my body shudders, and my climax bursts from my body, melting heat and pleasure through my limbs, even to my fingertips. He’s spilled at the same time—and his cum looks a little thicker and feels slicker than mine. All of this would make sense if he lives in the ocean, I suppose. But at the moment, a heavenly afterglow surrounds both of us, sending a pleasant relaxation through my body such as I have never known.

His long lashes fan against his cheeks and then he’s looking up at me, sharp teeth on display in a lovely, sated smile.

“Sephiroth.”

My heart thunders in my chest—and I wonder if I have to go back to Midgar. I’d much rather stay with him, here, possibly for the rest of my life.

“ _Stay_.”

That single request is all it takes to make up my mind. I curl my body up behind his, not bothering to clean us up more than a quick rub down with the towel. I push my nose up against his gills, where that sweet smell lingers. He’s _perfect_. And yes, this is where I belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Really, I’m blown away by the support on here, and I’m so glad I dared to enter this fandom and for the genuine, nice comments from all of you.
> 
> I’ve started a new series to include the rest of the one-shots I’ve started, and I will be posting those over the next few weeks, assuming I can finish them.


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